


Going Through the Motions

by HollyDB, Kimmie_Winchester



Series: The Disco Chronicles [4]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Saved By the Bell (TV), Supernatural, The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Crack and Angst, Dark Crack, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 19:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 36
Words: 215,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19730512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyDB/pseuds/HollyDB, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmie_Winchester/pseuds/Kimmie_Winchester
Summary: Spike, Buffy, Zack, and Kelly try to come to peace with Zack's soulless stint.Wesley takes steps to seek vengeance for the death of the woman he loved.Faith tutors the new Slayer while continuing her friends-with-benefits arrangement with the girl's Watcher.A pregnant Willow travels to the US with Harry, Ron, and Hermione and runs into a certain politician again.Sam and Dean Winchester learn there are still things in the world that can surprise them.Continuation of an extremely unofficial sequel toHarbingers of Beatrice. Includes OCs from that story.This was started in 2010 and abandoned for several years. The authors picked it up again in 2017, right around the time the Winchesters show up in the story. The last half of the story was completed in 2019. We never thought we'd post it (or any of the other installments) anywhere, so it hasn't been edited.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> See introductory note [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19560574/chapters/46466893).

_Three weeks later_

He’d put this off about as long as he could. The first week he’d used moving as an excuse. The second week he had began with telling the others he wasn’t quite ready to venture out on his own. This week he had made it in the door before running out and hiding in the alley until it was time to head home.

He was completely out of excuses.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed open the door and stepped into the harsh light of the lobby. It immediately gave him the feeling of going to the doctor as the halogen bulbs illuminated the bright white walls. There were a couple of chairs in a corner with a depressing looking fake fern sitting on the floor close by. There weren’t any pictures on the wall and the only sign of life was a young woman sitting at small desk near the door leading to the interior of the office.

“Can I help you?” she said with extra enthusiasm. She looked human, but he knew she wasn’t.

Not completely at least. She didn’t smell right.

“Uhhh…” he stuttered as his blinking eyes were still adjusting to the brightness around him.

“Are you here for the group meeting tonight or do you have an appointment?” Her brunette curls were pulled up in a sloppy ponytail and she gave a look of peppy optimism. He doubted she was a native.

“Both.” His voice was hoarse and his throat dry. The more he looked at her the more familiar she became.

“What’s your name?”

“Morris.”

“Oh,” she said with a smile and nod. “Mr. Morris! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Vanna. You need anything to drink or anything?”

“No,” he said giving the room an awkward glance.

“Well, normally we could schedule you in before group, but since you ran out on Monday before I caught your name, I didn’t get a chance to see your preference. Would you like before or after the meeting next week?”

“I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, looking down at the desk as a horrible thought crossed his mind. She reminded him of Fred. The sweetness in her voice and the ease in her eyes filled his mind of Fred. He thought he might get sick.

“You’re the first vampire I’ve met here. I’ve met a couple, but they usually have just tried to kill me on the way home. Until I got the information from Dr. Pinkie to make the registration sheet I had no idea vampires could have souls. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said lamely.

“Well, if you need anything Mr. Morris, just feel free to ask. I’m here all night and come in most afternoons, too.” She wrinkled a brow. “But I guess that doesn’t help you much with the whole sunlight issue.”

“Not so much.”

“Well, just head on through that door and make your way to the last room on the left. They’re a few already here and Dr. Pinkie will be in with Grupa as soon as their session finishes.”

“Thanks,” he murmured as he walked to the closed door beside her desk. Forcing himself to go forward, he grabbed the knob and turned.

*~*~*

“That. Is. Disgusting.” Rosalie had done well to keep her voice to a whisper as she peered over the dumpster and looked at the demon in question.

“Absolutely amazing,” Hunter said in whispered astonishment.

“That something could be so ugly?” the slayer snapped. “I agree.”

“I’ve read about them, but never seen one before. The drawings of Richard Towley do not give it justice. The scales I always expected to be snake-like, but they have more of an armor-like look to them.”

“Tell me where its heart is and I’ll let you pet it once it’s dead.”

“No,” he said with a quick shake of the head. “I believe it’s decapitation only for it.” He gaze seemed transfixed on the demon as it dived through a stack of boxes near the back door of the restaurant they were patrolling. “They’re normally only found in the Amazon. Not known to hunt humans, but have attacked when provoked or sick.”

“I knew I should have brought my axe,” Rosalie pouted. “You told me I needed to pack lighter, dumbass.”

“I wonder what it could be doing in Los Angeles. Could it have come of through dimension portals? That would be interesting to find out they existed outside our realm.”

“Yeah, so how do we kill it now?”

“The Amazonians have been known to kill them and extract the poison that secretes from their sharp claws and teeth. Use it in the darts and sword tips to kill their enemies.”

“Not to self: avoid claws and teeth. Got it. Now what?”

“Towley said he witnessed an Amazonian warrior ingest the poison. Apparently, it’s only deadly when in direct contact with the bloodstream. Contact with blood is fatal, but digestion is possible. Told it was not pleasant, but still absolutely fascinating.”

“So you’re advice is to make out with him?”

“No!” he balked, his whisper increasing enough to cause the demon to pause in his actions and look around. Rosalie glared at Hunter until the creature lowered its head and began plundering through the boxes again.

“Nice job, _boss_ ,” she said with an eye-roll. “Reminder why I needed you to come along?”

“To explain to you that this isn’t a big giant troll, but a—”

“Really nasty looking troll with scales and poison-filled claws and teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Let’s kill it now.”

“I think we should wait and track it some more. Towley claimed they normally travel in packs. Something like this should be investigated more fully. I’m not really sure why they would have migrated so far north of their nature habitat.”

Their investigation was interrupted as Faith jumped down from a fire escape next to the demon. With one swift swipe of the sword in her hands, the creature’s body crumpled to the ground and its head flew into the brick walls on the other side of the alley. “Hey!” Hunter shouted as he ran from the cover in the dumpster.

“Hey!” the brunette slayer greeted with a wave of her sword. “Fancy meeting you in a place like this.”

“I was trying to give Rosalie a lesson here.”

The dark woman cocked a brow. “A lesson on what?”

“The demon you just murdered.”

“Oh? Well, Ro, this is how you kill this thing. Hope I helped you out.”

“Thanks, Faith.” His voice was close to a growl and he whirled around to face the younger slayer. “Glad I was absolutely no help to you this evening. Obviously, slayers are supposed to go around and kill every non-human thing in sight. Forgive me for thinking education might be needed to learn what you’re up against.”

Faith looked to her protégé. “What did I do wrong?”

“Not sure, but some guy named Towelhead totally wouldn’t approve if we were in the Amazon.”

*~*~*

He’d been grateful that she’d accompanied him on the trip to California, but Sam was beginning to worry that Ainsley was expecting more from him than he could give.

After the rally and dinner, the two of them had come back to his hotel room for a glass of wine and a chat. Though the past three weeks had been great, mainly because Josh had finally got off his case about Willow, Sam wasn’t sure if Ainsley was approaching the situation from a different angle. “Thanks again,” he said as he poured her a glass of chardonnay. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had to sit there and talk all night to Bill Baxley.”

She walked over and took the proffered glass with a giggle. “No, I doubt a discussion over hunting would have gone too well for you without some backup. At least I had enough sense to keep him from beginning on gun control.”

“Likely the only Republican on the planet who could resist.”

“It’s what happens when you put one of us in a Democratic White House. We go soft on all our talking points.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” He gave her a warm smile and gestured they sit down out on the balcony. Once they were comfortable and he’d down most of his glass, he gathered the courage to begin. “We need to talk.”

“Uh oh.”

“I hope it’s not an uh oh conversation we’re about to have.”

“Pretty sure it will be.”

“Look, Ainsley—”

“Sam, I need to tell you something before this goes any farther. I’ve had a wonderful time coming out here with you and going to all the rallies and events and smiling and flirting with you, but—”

“There’s a but?”

She gave a awkward smile. “But I happen to have a boyfriend.”

“A what?”

“I was seeing this colonel before he got shipped over to Iraq and we had gotten pretty serious. I talked to him and told him what I’m doing. Helping you out, you know. But at the end of the day, that’s all this is for me. You know, as friends.”

Sam was quiet for several seconds before throwing back the rest of his wine and letting out a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

This was obviously not the answer she had expected. “What?”

“I mean that I’m so glad that you only want to be friends because that’s all I’m looking for right now.”

“What do you mean? I’ve been flirty and made sure that I always dressed up in sexually attractive attire.”

“I know.” He paused. “I mean, yes, you’ve always looked great, but I’m not looking to get with anybody at the moment.”

“Well, I still don’t see why you weren’t turned on a bit by my evening wear at least.”

He laughed out loud as she pouted and took a big swig of her drink. “Don’t get wrong. If I was in the mood you would have definitely done the trick.” He sighed. “But I’m sure Josh told you about Willow.”

She gave a shrug. “He mentioned you had just had a bad breakup with a girl you barely knew and he thought you were making bad decisions lately. He asked me to come and help your image and give you a chance to rebound. Her name was Willow?”

“Yes, but Josh put it a little differently than how it actually happened. She and I had really hit it off, but she left because she wasn’t good for my career.”

“Did you sleep with another prostitute?”

“No! She wasn’t a prostitute! She’s a…” He couldn’t actually say what her career was without invoking a wave of questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. “She wouldn’t mix well in political society. She’s not a bad woman. Not at all. She was amazing. But we broke up and I was thrown by how much that affected me. I’m still trying to get over it.”

Ainsley gave a knowing nod. “You still have feelings for her.”

“Yes,” he admitted “I do. Though I haven’t figured out why. We knew each other a few days, but that seemed enough to put me under her spell.” He had totally meant to use the pun.

“Well, I don’t see why that should be an issue. By all appearances the press will be certain we’re a couple. I see no reason why it should get in the way of our private lives.”

“That’s perfect.”

“And you’re sure she’s not a prostitute?”

“Ainsley!”

“Just checking,” she said with a cheeky shrug. “By the way, anything good in the mini-bar?”

*~*~*

The small room was the most surreal sight Zack had encountered in his existence as a man or vampire. What would have been a stereotypical setup of nearly a dozen chairs gathered in a circle in the center of the space was overshadowed by the various occupants of the room.

There was a human woman sitting in one of the chairs. She kept looking over to a small table that occupied a water cooler and a small tray of cookies. Next to it stood a portly looking demon with spiky horns sticking out all over his head and neck. It seemed to be in conversation with a Gorloack demon that Zack identified from his many endeavors at demon bars back in New York. He could have sworn the demon crumpling a plastic cup in his hands was a Sperhew demon, which he first encountered when he caught one attempting to eat a small dog about four years ago on patrol. Another demon, obviously female, was pacing back and forth wearing a tight black dress over her scarlet red skin. Zack mused that she might be attractive if it were not for the tentacles waving all over her scalp.

As quietly and discreetly as he could, he made his way to the circle of chairs and sat down. He made sure to sit far enough away from the human that he didn’t have to make eye contact. Folding his hands in his lap, he pulled out his phone and checked the time. Dr. Pinkie should be arriving at any moment.

“Good evening!” A small figure said striding into the room with a sobbing Kraylek demon behind him. Unfortunately, a Kraylek demon’s sobs came out in high-pitched squeals and the whole room turned to the door with discomfort. “No worries, no worries. Grupa and I had a breakthrough this evening is all,” the small man strode over and placed himself next to Zack. “And I’m glad to finally get a chance to meet you, Zackary.”

Zack looked up to meet the eyes of Dr. Pinkie. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t this. Possibly he expected him to be pink or to be a giant finger. Nope, he didn’t expect eyes. Eyes he had forgotten to visualize. “Hi.”

“Very good!” Pinkie said to the group. “Let’s begin. I doubt Zackary wishes to be the first one to speak, so let us give him a warm welcome. Brandy, you haven’t shared in a while. Would you like to start us off?”

The human nodded and stood up. “Hi,” she said nervously. “My name is Brady and I like to have sex with demons.”

“Hi, Brandy,” the group called back in unison. From there, she began a graphic and disturbing description of the demons she had slept with and the reasons she had found them attractive. Zack nearly laughed out loud when she talked about how she loved slimy ones, but did also have a thing for ones with more than one set of genitals.

After her confession was over the Sperhew demon got up and confessed to being a vegetarian and ostracized by the rest of his pack because they felt he was a disgrace to their kind. He confessed how he had been on the verge of suicide before coming to Dr. Pinkie. Everyone gave him small words of encouragement when he broke down in the midst of telling that his parents still wouldn’t speak to him.

“Zackary?” Dr. Pinkie asked as the Sperhew took his seat. “Why don’t you go next?”

“Uhhh…” Zack said uneasily looking around the room to see all sets of eyes focused squarely on him. He gave a shaky sigh and stood up. “Well, my name is Zack. I’ve never done this thing before.” He gestured to the room at large. “Basically, I’m a vampire with a soul. I lost my soul and cheated on my wife, killed a bunch of people and tortured my best friend’s wife who happens to be one of my closest friends. I found out my dad had made a contract with Wolfram and Hart to take my soul because he was out to kill my half-brother’s baby who I had just discovered existed. The brother, not just the baby. I got my soul back and killed my father, but now I have to deal with the fact nobody trusts me or even wants me to exist.” He paused. “Oh, and they tell me I have a lot of father issues with my dead dad and my sire.” He looked around. “Think that about sums me up.”

The room looked slightly surprised, but not alarmed. They all spoke in unison once more. “Hi, Zack.”

*~*~*

Willow made a feeble attempt to organize the stacks of paper scattered about her desk. As usual, she grew distracted and abandoned the task only moments after she began. She mentally noted she was too tired and would try again after a big glass of pumpkin juice and some eggs and toast.

The idea of food made her ravenous and nauseous all at the same time. She’s finally encountered the dreaded morning sickness and found that it was the most disgusting aspect of pregnancy she had yet to discover. She was always hungry yet puked her guts out after every meal.

Ignoring her growling stomach, she looked up to see an owl tapping on her window. Completely unfazed, she got up to open the hatch and let in the barn own holding her copy of the morning’s _Daily Prophet_ , and had just watched the bird swoop out into the morning air before encountering a snowy white owl barreling it’s way inside her office. Knowing at once it was none other than Hedwig II, she pulled out her stash of treats and fed a couple to the bird as it landed on her desk expectantly. “Wonder what you’re doing here?” she mused as he pulled off the roll of parchment attached to the bird’s leg and giving a gentle ruffle to Hedwig’s feathers. “Hang out if you want,” she said gesturing to the room at large as she sat down at her desk and unraveled the paper.

_Willow -_

_I’ve waited about as long as I could, but I finally convinced Harry that I wasn’t going to rest until heard you were okay. The kids sent word that you were late to the start of term and that you haven’t acted right since you arrived. When I asked Harry about it all, he insisted that you were well and simply had to deal with some issues in America that none of the other wizards there could handle. He wouldn’t say much, but says that you still do some work for their government and they have to call on you quite a lot because Americans are typically an ignorant and stupid set of people. He adamantly swears that you are the sole exception, but I think he’s just being a prat because of how well they did in the last Quidditch World Cup against us last time around._

_I really hope everything is all right. Hermione and I have been discussing how awful it would be if anything were to happen to you. It’s been nice to help even out the odds a bit whenever you come over for dinners!_

_I doubt we’ll get much chance to chat before the holidays, but I want to pass on that your attendance is mandatory this year once again. Thankfully, Mum has finally conceded that we can’t keep having Christmas at The Burrow. Pretty sure the campfire incident did enough to change her mind on having the entire family over at once ever again._

_We’re having it at Grimmauld Place. It works out perfectly since George, Fred and Percy all live here in London as well as Ron, Hermione and their brood of Weasleys. You of course will be staying here with Mum and Dad while Bill and Fleur’s house will be over at Ron’s with Charlie hopefully popping in from Egypt at some point._

_Hope you haven’t made any plans because it will be a shame to force you to break them. But seriously, do make sure to let me know that you are doing okay. And let me know if there is anything you need. Harry and Ron have an assignment and will be in and out the next few weeks. If you want to meet up in Hogsmeade to have a drink and catch up, just letting me know._

_Take care and try to keep yourself out of trouble. I know it’s much easier said than done._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

*~*~*

It had been waiting for him. Placed in the center of Lilah Morgan’s desk was a thick metal cuff ordained with a variety of jewels, which he supposed was intended to make it look inviting. Why it sat on Lilah’s desk, he didn’t know, but he knew it was relevant. Lilah never left clutter out; whatever she had prepared, be it this gaudy bracelet or nothing at all, was what she intended her client to see.

“All right.”

“All right?”

“I have no bloody clue what that thing is.”

Lilah’s brows perked. She sat behind her desk, her hands folded diplomatically. “This came out of Special Projects this morning,” she said. “You wanted to be kept up to date on our progress. What you’re looking at, Mr. Pryce, is the very device by which we mean to extract the essence of the Slayer.”

Wesley’s eyes fell again to the bracelet. “This?”

“Our very best warlock just put the final touches in place. It took a few weeks, obviously, to wrangle how best to approach the issue at hand. After all, we just put to bed an aged contract that expired due to inefficiency on part of the client.”

“You mean the deal Derek Morris made.”

Lilah inclined her head. “Technically, I am bound by attorney-client privilege.”

“Does that privilege extend to the deceased?”

“You did read your contract, right?”

He grinned wryly but didn’t answer. Instead, he said, “Maximum gain, then. How does this work?”

“Quite simple. The Slayer myth has been challenged recently, most particularly since the calling of Buffy Summers. Whereas beforehand the Slayer operated independent of outside council, Ms. Summers has seemingly made it popular for her successors to surround themselves by trusted confidants and allies.” She paused. “Or anyone who happens to discover the secret. I’m not entirely sure how this works.”

“I don’t believe anyone is.”

“Needless to say, trust plays a key role in how a slayer cultivates her relationships. It taps in to the center core of what a slayer is and how she conducts herself. Therefore, it took a serious round of ritual and incantations before our staff was able to piece together the right recipe for removing the power that makes a slayer so unique.” Lilah gestured to the bracelet. “It doesn’t look like much, but once this is on the girl, your part of the bargain will be considered fulfilled.”

“That’s all I have to do? Give Rosalie the bracelet?”

“If Rosalie is the intended recipient.”

Wesley shrugged. “It makes the most sense.”

“How so?”

“Rosalie never strove to be a slayer. Faith relishes it. Neither Faith nor Rosalie, for the most part, have done me wrong…” Though there was the instance in which both had prevented him from seeking vengeance on Zack. It didn’t matter, though. They were acting on what they thought was right. “I don’t want this to be any more of an ordeal than necessary.”

Lilah smiled a secret smile that made him uneasy, but Wesley had decided over the last few weeks the less he knew about the comings and goings of Wolfram and Hart, the better. “That’s very generous of you,” she said with a sort of false sincerity that set his teeth on edge. “However, in order for the bracelet to work, it will require a bit more than simply placing it on the intended.”

“Oh?”

“The Slayer must trust the person who gives it to her. And the person who gives it to her must know what it will do.”

Wesley frowned. “Rosalie doesn’t trust me.”

“She did.”

“Not after what happened.”

“It will take time, then.”

“I don’t have time. I want Zack dead.”

Lilah held up a hand. “We’re not setting a deadline on this, as we do with other clients. However, regardless of how relationships may have been damaged recently, we here at Wolfram and Hart are confident in your ability to overcome the stipulations necessary to get close to the girl.”

“You don’t understand. I wanted Zack dead yesterday.”

“Mr. Pryce, these things must be handled delicately,” Lilah said. “Zack is too difficult to get to right now as it is. The whole crew is on edge, waiting to see what we throw at them next. Any attempt to extradite Zack to a location in which your justice can be carried out would be met with resistance, and given your recent vocal protestations to his presence in the first place, you would most assuredly rise to the top of what I assume would be a single-man-suspect list.”

That much made sense. Wesley relaxed.

“This will take work on your part,” she continued. “You must work at reclaiming the level of trust and confidence you once claimed. Only then will the bracelet be successfully placed on the intended.”

“And if she takes it off?”

“She won’t be able to. No one will…not unless they understand that by doing so, they are essentially entering a death contract with us.”

“Charming.”

“I am going to keep the bracelet in my personal safe…just to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands between now and whenever you think it safe to make your move.”

“This is going to take a while, isn’t it?”

Lilah smiled thinly. “Patience, Mr. Pryce. We always fulfill our bargains if our stipulations are met. Always.”

*~*~*

The next few months were met with grueling acceptance. Life was neither simple nor difficult; it simply _was._ Rosalie continued her legwork with Hunter, attempting to follow his train of logic, no matter from where it left the station. She found she enjoyed patrolling much more than she would have anticipated. While demon hunting was an intrinsic part of her upbringing, the raw power she now felt coursing through her skin fueled her with eagerness she couldn’t place. She squealed in excitement every time a punch launched an opponent yards away, and smirked every time she broke something around the Hyperion by accidentally applying too much strength.

Her relationship with Hunter proved complicated at best. He accompanied her on patrols, almost always tagteamed with a voice-recorder to catalogue every move Rosalie made. He likewise took up identifying the movements of demons he recognized and describing in excess detail those he did not for later identification. Sometimes Faith tagged along, but most often they ran into each other on their separate outings. It was a tacit agreement, one that Rosalie noticed but never vocally acknowledged. Faith wasn’t the girl’s watcher, or anything of the sort. She was a big sister mentor, and while they often sparred in the basement—which had been divided into two separate rooms for want of maintaining the iron cage if it ever again proved useful—she stayed out of Hunter’s way when it came to informing and training the new slayer.

Hunter kept his own room with his favorite clothes and weaponry, but for the most part had moved entirely into Faith’s room. On the nights when he was too tired or she didn’t feel like company after coupling, he would retreat to his room and collapse into an exhausted slumber.

Zack’s therapy had become routine, mostly. He found he did feel a bit better upon leaving each session, but figured it was mostly psychological as the high only lasted about thirty minutes before he was back to wallowing in guilt and misery. The first few weeks at home had seen Kelly almost always sneaking across the hall to Spike and Buffy’s apartment to crash in their spare room. She didn’t like leaving the kids alone with him and had, after the first night, purchased a new baby monitor. Rosie blatantly refused to leave her daddy alone, and as went Rosie so went William. It seemed the best compromise, though Rosie had, on more than one occasion, switched off the monitor out of protest.

Kelly’s standoffish routine ended the night she accidentally fell asleep on the couch while watching reruns of Doogie Howser. She awoke the next morning in her own bed with the vague memory of Zack collecting her into his arms and walking her down the hall. When she told Buffy and Spike, Buffy revealed Zack had initially knocked on their door to put Kelly in the bed she was accustomed to, but had returned upon instruction.

Spike and Buffy likewise fell into a routine. They would check in with Wright before leaving the apartment, then head to whatever cemetery Rosalie and Hunter weren’t stalking out. They talked, slayed, and sparred on those nights when the undead seemed more reluctant to rise. It was patterned and familiar, but likewise felt like a record that kept skipping. Buffy’s initial bravado when it came to approaching her feelings regarding her personal victimization had vanished, and she preferred to avoid the subject altogether. Likewise, Spike hadn’t done much to mend fences. They seemed trapped in sub-reality with nowhere to go.

Sam and Ainsley’s faux relationship was a tabloid success. Ainsley was no closet conservative, therefore those Republicans in California who were wary of Sam’s liberalism found themselves swaying in his favor anyway, as the opposing party was a Tea-Bagger whose former statements to the tune of gays should be executed and all aborted fetuses saved for Jesus’s return made him look only slightly more appealing as a gubernatorial candidate than Freddy Krueger.

In the meantime, Willow’s pregnancy became the stuff of wild speculation among her students, and snarky puns in her letter exchange with Ginny Weasley. It seemed whenever the two attempted to schedule a meeting, something came up—be it a magical crisis or a bout of indigestion. For her affairs with the Ministry of Magic, Willow began appearing in public with Neville Longbottom and didn’t bother denying rumors they were an item or he was her child’s father. Neville didn’t mind these rumors, as it helped his love-life on the side. There seemed little more than eligible women loved than a rugged war-hero who was permanently unavailable.

So it was. Seven long months of more of the same.

*~*~*

_Seven months later…_

“So, Zack, tell me about your week.”

Zack wiggled uncomfortably. Dr. Pinkie often started off by asking innocuous questions, but from there the conversation descended into a ravine of confusing riddles and observations the likes of which no rational man—demon or otherwise—could follow. His one-on-one sessions with the doctor were his least favorite. Group seemed much more effective, if not a little demanding.

He looked forward to group, and as this was one of the rare weeks when his personal session preceded the group meeting, it likewise meant getting rid of two weekly obligations in one blow.

“It was pretty typical,” he said. “More of the same, really.”

“Yes, yes.” Dr. Pinkie’s eyes trailed over his notepad. “And what is ‘the same?’”

“Well…”

“Have you approached your wife about the matter we discussed?”

Zack winced. For the past few weeks, Dr. Pinkie had pressed the issue of initiating marital relations with Kelly as a method of moving along the healing process. For the past few weeks, Zack had steadfastly ignored the issue. Pressing Kelly for sex was out of the question, particularly when she had only just grown accustomed to inviting his input on matters like schooling for the children.

Going from, “Goodnight” to “wanna get naked?” seemed extreme.

“No.”

Dr. Pinkie shook his head, tsking. “Zackary,” he chided softly. “You’re never going to get anywhere if you keep everything pent up.”

“I don’t keep everything pent up. Well, I keep some of the things…a few of the things…about half of the things…most of the things pent up, but sex isn’t one of them.”

The doctor’s eyes sparkled in delight. “So you have instead taken a lover?”

Zack recoiled. “No.”

“A hooker?”

“No.”

“Five dollar trick behind Hot Totties?”

“No!” Zack made a face and shook his head. “I have infidelity issues.”

“And it seems the best way to conquer these issues is to get your sexual release.”

“For the seven thousandth time, I don’t want to conquer these issues, Dr. Pinkie. I want to find peace for what I’ve done.”

“A part of finding peace is accepting that these things are a part of your nature.”

“My nature is conflicted by the presence of a soul.”

Dr. Pinkie sighed. “So your release was…self-administrated. Again.”

“Yes.”

“Zackary, do you view your wife as a sexual object?”

“Well, I don’t like the word _object…_ ”

“You want her physically.”

“Yes.”

“Then you must seize it!”

Zack arched a brow. “By force?”

“If need be!”

“Dr. Pinkie, I appreciate the sentiment, but I don’t think Kelly would be receptive to that, nor do I think it’d do anything to improve our situation.” He paused meaningfully. “I think she’d kick the shit out of me, and I know I’d deserve it.”

Dr. Pinkie arched a brow. “Do you really think Kelly doesn’t have needs?”

“Of course not—”

“Women need sex, too.”

“I know—”

“In fact, I believe I am going to make that the topic of our group meeting.” Dr. Pinkie beamed, satisfied. “Now, as for the situation with your sire…”

Zack’s shoulders dropped. This was much safer territory. “Yes.”

“I take it things have not improved?”

“Well…it’s delicate.”

“Why?”

Zack just stared at him. They had honestly been over this no less than ten times. “Because I kidnapped, tortured, and raped his mate.”

“Ah, yes. Well, I believe it would be beneficial if you invited Spike to our next session.”

“I’m not sure he will want to come.”

Dr. Pinkie waved a hand. “Tell him refusal to assist in your recovery is symptomatic of penis envy. He’ll come.”

Zack shrank a little in his seat. “Yeah,” he said softly. “This’ll end well.”

*~*~*

Willow had come to rely on the Hogwarts-sanctioned trips to Hogsmeade. Point of fact, she had just gnawed her way through her last bunch of Chocolate Frogs and had decided to risk a quick run to Honeydukes before meeting Ginny and Harry at The Three Broomsticks. It had finally happened—the stars had aligned and whatever cosmic force had determined to keep her from visiting her friends had alleviated. As it was, she doubted Ginny would allow her to cancel one more time. It was either accompany her House to Hogsmeade or face the wrath of Mrs. Potter.

Neville didn’t let her get too far out of reach. As Head of Gryffindor, he had an obligation to keep his House in line as well. The last few trips, he’d attempted to juggle watching the Ravenclaws in addition to his students, along with the help of Professor McGonagall. Yet Willow didn’t like shirking her duties, and she especially didn’t like the perception that pregnancy had impeded her ability to manage her courses.

She really wanted a greasy cheeseburger. And hot fudge. And marmalade.

She doubted The Three Broomsticks served cheeseburgers.

Munching on Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Bean— _ewww, tuna fish_ —she waddled her way into the famous pub, placing a hand on her stomach and immediately spying Ginny’s gobsmacked face.

“What on earth happened to you?”

At her side, Harry Potter managed to smother a snicker. “Believe the rumors are true now, will you?” He aimed a friendly smile in Willow’s direction, waving her over. “Ginny thought our lot were having a laugh at her.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time James got inventive,” Ginny admonished. “He inherited his grandfather’s sense of humor, that one. And his uncles’ tendency for pranks.”

“Still, I think they know better than to have a go at you.” Harry stood, ever the gentleman, and helped Willow into her seat. “So, is this what’s kept you away all these months?”

“Motherhood does not become me,” Willow agreed, huffing. “I always thought pregnancy cravings were exaggerated.”

“Sorry,” Ginny said wryly. “Afraid not.”

“Any idea who the father is, then?”

“Harry!” his wife admonished.

He shrugged. “Seems a fair question.”

Ginny made a face and smacked his shoulder, which Harry took in kind. Then she turned back to Willow, her eyes heavy. “It’s not Neville, is it?”

Willow smirked. “Sorry, no.”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m rather glad. Not that Neville wouldn’t make a fantastic father, but I’ve heard from Lily that he’s been rather popular with young witches who come by to get a peek at him.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s unbelievable, really. You’d think people would have lost interest by now.”

“In the defeat of the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived?” Harry chided. Then he fell somber. “Yeah, I know. Had to sign four autographs just to find a table.”

Willow patted his hand. She knew how much Harry hated his fame, but never really knew what to say when the conversation arose. “Neville enjoys the attention,” she said. “But he’s very sweet.”

“I think he fancies Emma Fae,” Harry said. “She’s the Keeper for Ireland.”

“He’s mentioned her more than once,” Willow remarked. “Though I think he’s trying to play it cool. Ron might have told him something about appearing unavailable in order to get a girl’s attention.”

Ginny laughed. “Because Ron is the leading authority.”

“Can’t help but notice we’re still no closer to finding out who sweet-talked you out of your knickers,” Harry said with an impish grin.

Ginny struck his shoulder again, but this time couldn’t hide her mirth.

“There have been rumors,” Harry said.

“Rumors? And you didn’t believe I was pregnant?”

“I believed. She didn’t.”

“James can be quite influential,” Ginny said. “And conniving.”

“We try not to tell him,” Harry added, “but Ginny thought he might have convinced Neville to go along with the rouse in order to make her look the fool. Don’t be surprised if my darling wife asks to feel the baby kick just to be doubly sure you’re in fact with child.”

Willow sighed and placed a hand over her stomach. “It was in America,” she said, “when I went to DC to visit some friends last fall.”

Harry nodded. “You were gone longer than we anticipated.”

“I had a big evil to fight.”

Ginny perked a brow. “And you didn’t send us an owl to make sure you were all right?”

Willow shrugged. “Honestly, aside from Wolfram and Hart attempting to drain me and turn me into a big black-eyed momma, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Do either of you remember my friend Zack Morris?”

“The bloke who came with that band?” Harry questioned.

She nodded. “He lost his soul. He spent a few weeks terrorizing his family and friends, killed some truly good people and tortured my friend, Buffy.”

Ginny took a sip of her Butter Beer. “She’s the Slayer? The one who turned?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds like a good a time as any to get knocked up,” Harry quipped. Ginny hit him again.

Willow made a face. “I was with a man who is now governor of California. Before discovering that Zack had lost his soul, we spent a couple days together. Neither one of us were particularly careful, so now I have a child. Or will have a child in anywhere from four to six weeks.”

“Does he know?” Ginny asked.

“No. And not for lack of trying.” At their looks, Willow sighed and hastily explained the situation with Josh and her numerous attempts, up to and including a visit to Sam’s residence, in order to tell the daddy-to-be of her predicament. By the time she finished, they both sat open-mouthed, staring in astonishment.

“What a prat!” Harry said. “Don’t know how managed to not Crucio the git.”

“Harry!”

“Not that I condone the use of the Unforgivable Curses on Muggles—or anyone—but honestly…to keep a man away from his child…”

“He didn’t know,” Willow offered. While her feelings toward Josh Lyman were definitely not warm and fuzzy, she did feel obligated to at least not make him out to be more horrible than he already was.

“Bully for him.” Harry sighed heavily. “Look, the Ministry is sending me to America for a state dinner or whatever over the Easter holiday.”

Willow frowned. “Bummer.”

“I want you to come with me.”

“What?”

“I know that puts you close to your delivery,” Harry added, “but I know bloody all about Washington DC or how to speak American.”

Ginny snickered.

“Hermione and Ron are going, too,” Harry added.

Willow turned to Ginny, who immediately explained her absence with a wave of the hand. “I, on the other hand, am left with the unenviable task of managing the whole ruddy crew. Thankfully, Mum and Dad will have a hand in it.” She eyed Harry warily. “Though if that son of yours gets into anything—”

“It’ll be Fred and George’s doing, and sorry to say, they’re your blood family.”

Ginny made a face at him.

“You’ve got to come, Willow.”

“And if I go into labor on the way?”

“I haven’t heard fantastic things about the American health system, but I’d wager between the three of us, we’ll make sure your baby is born with the right number of parts.”

“You’re very encouraging.”

“It’s what I do.” Harry raised his head then, his eyes fixating on someone behind her. “Oi there!”

“Bloody hell,” James Sirius Potter muttered. “What did I do now?”

“I’ve got my eye on you,” Harry said, miming between his eyes and James’s. Then he turned back to Willow and grinned. “That’s what you have to look forward to.”

She attempted to smile back. “I can hardly wait.”

*~*~*

It had become routine for the four adult vampires to wander in and out of each other’s living space, though Zack typically asked before he entered a room, even in his own house. Thus, Spike didn’t think before entering his childe’s apartment; he walked in like he owned the place and stalked moodily toward the fridge to see if they had any pig’s blood.

The domestic life was beginning to kill him, slow and sure. He wasn’t meant for cages or baby steps toward a brighter future. Yet they all seemed in limbo, waiting for something to happen or a sign from bugger knew what that it was all right to move on. He didn’t know what to think; he just knew he didn’t like it.

Then there was that whole matter of Zack standing in the hallway in one of Kelly’s bras.

“Bloody hell!” Spike roared.

“Ahhh!”

“What the bugger are you wearing?”

Zack glanced down, as though surprised to find himself in a brassiere. Then he looked behind him for someone to blame it on, though it did little good as he and Spike were alone in the apartment. “I…ahhh…”

“You’re not having another identity crisis, are you, mate?”

In a small voice, he replied, “Dr. Pinkie wants me to explore my feminine side.”

“Sod all.”

“And you’re supposed to come with me to therapy next time.”

Spike just stared at him blankly, then slowly blinked and rumbled a short laugh. “This,” he said, “has got to end.”


	2. Chapter 2

Hunter had to work hard to react when he watched her in action. She really was a thing of beauty and the more time he spent near her, the more he felt himself get drawn into her aura. He didn't like it. No, these walls had been built up for the majority of his life, and he wasn't about to let the odd stirrings inside him get overshadowed by his need for privacy and isolation.

“That was awesome,” she declared as the dust of three vampires swirled around her on the breeze. “Seriously, you can't tell me that wasn't on your top ten?”

He bit back a smile. It only made things worse when he gave her too much praise. “Impressive. But that last one gave you a little bit of trouble. Lost your focus as you dusted the first. You need to concentrate harder on you peripheral vision when you go in for the slay.”

“Thank you, Captain Killjoy.”

“Nicknames like that and I'll start to think you like me as much as Faith does.”

Rosalie gave a disgusted snort. “Pretty sure she wins. You don't see me asking you to stay over in my room every night, now do you?”

“Well, that would certainly leave Faith a bit put out and while you're dad's a nice bloke, I'm sure he'd castrate me in an instant. Nobody wants that, now do they?”

“Not at the moment.” She gave him a fiery look before turning around to face the remainder of the cemetery. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before saying, “I'm not really getting any vibes. Pretty sure we knocked out the fledglings of the day.”

“Your arm's bleeding. I think we'd best call it a night.”

She gave a nod and looked down to her arm. The gash happened as one of the vamps went for her arm. The scrape of fangs on her skin wasn't the worst she'd suffered thus far, but he was pretty sure it was starting to sting as the adrenaline slowly drained away. “We didn't do too shabby, though that fucking last one did get in a nibble.”

“It happens,” he replied. “No need to worry. Your movements are becoming more fluid and I noticed how you tried to use your inner senses a little more. You actually closed your eyes a moment when the first came up.”

“I was doing that whole one with the Force thing you tried to describe last week.”

“I knew showing you the Star Wars trilogy as a means of practice was bound to be a bad idea.”

“When are we watching the new ones?”

“We're not. They're not as good and I don't need you getting ideas about going to the Dark Side.”

“Ha ha ha,” she said with an eye-roll. “Probably don't want me getting the hots for Hayden Christianson.”

“You can get the hots for him if I can check out Natalie Portman.” He paused. “Didn't you say you had homework?”

“Seriously? Why would your mind go from Natalie Portman to homework?”

“Education turns me on,” he said with a smirk and a wink.

“Don't. Just…don't. I won't be able to look at geometry again without getting nauseous.”

“I thought you told me geometry already makes you nauseous.”

“It does. Who the fuck needs geometry?” She held up a hand as he opened his mouth. “And don't even begin that whole spiel about needing to know fighting angles and fuck. You tell me why I will ever use sine, cosine and tangents in real life and I'll eat my stake.”

He knew he could. He could bullshit some excuse as to a scenario in which it would be perfectly necessary. But they both knew he'd be lying, “Bugger it.”

“Huh?” she actually stopped walking as they made their way back to the Hyperion.

“Geometry is a sodding waste. Honestly, most math is. Learn to add, subtract, multiply and divide in your head and you're set. And your English and history programs are a waste. I read your syllabuses and I think I would learn more from the History Channel.”

“So I can blow off school?”

“Only if your mum and dad let you get away with it.”

She was silent for a minute. Obviously, she thought it over before saying, “Thanks a fucking lot, Captain Killjoy.”

He couldn't help laughing at her as they made their way home.

*~*~*

Zack avoided eye contact as Kelly walked into the front room. Not much had been said from the moment she rushed in with the kids to the time Rosie and William were tucked in for night. He always wanted to help when it was “her turn” to handle the kids at night, but understood that his presence in the enclosure of the kids’ rooms would just make things awkward and uncomfortable for her. He waited until she was done before going in and kissing them goodnight. He’d caught her doing the same thing after he’d read the customary bedtime stories and turned off the light.

“How was therapy?” He had to be impressed with the light, airy tone she had developed when talking to him. Strangers would think all was well in the Morris home. Zack knew otherwise. As cheerful as ever, he could tell when Kelly was being fake. But he gave her credit for trying. 

“Good,” he said in kind. He kept his gaze on the mug of blood he’d just warmed up in the microwave. “Grupa had his final meeting. Decided he was ready to move on. Vanna made cupcakes for group. She even put some blood in the middle of mine. Found out they go together pretty well.”

“Oh?” He hadn’t looked up, but had noticed a slight change to her tone.

“Yeah. Before the cupcakes Pinkie decided to focus on getting everyone in touch with their feminine sides. Really weird hearing a Kraylek demon describe what femininity entails. Kinda creepy actually.”

When he took a long swig of dinner, Kelly chimed in. “So, your friend Vanna made cupcakes, huh?”

He nodded with a swallow. “Yeah, and the vanilla is awesome with the blood. Thought it wouldn’t work out, but it did.”

“Is this the same friend you had coffee with a couple weeks ago?”

“Well…” he had to think back. Brandy was having a bad night and a few of them went out to a demon diner after group. “Yeah, she was there. Brandy, Grupa, Stan, Vanna and I went out. Grupa swears they serve it with blood if you ask, but I was hesitant to do it front of the others.” He shrugged. “Kinda surprised me that Vanna would do that, but she’s been pretty nice after we talked.”

“You two talked? What about?”

He couldn’t help it now. He looked up at her. Puzzled. “Are you okay, Kel?” It was the first time he’d called her a nickname since “The Incident.”

“Sure,” she said with an extra dose of fake. “Just being curious about your new friends is all.”

“Oh. Well, yeah. Vanna and I talked. I had trouble looking at her for the first two or three months. She cornered me one night and I had to tell her about how she reminded me of someone. Told her it made things awkward and then Pinkie made her come to group so that I could let it all out.” He rolled his eyes. “Pinkie just loves putting me on the spot. At least the others back me up.”

“She reminded you of someone?”

“Yeah,” he said moving away from the question quickly. “Be we talked and had out Kum-By-Ya moment and have been good ever since. Once I started talking to her, she stopped reminding me of…well, she started to become her own person. Vanna, you know.” 

“Well, that’s nice,” Kelly said absently. “Glad it’s going so well for you.” She rose quickly and began to walk toward her room. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Kelly.” He was confused as hell, but grateful that she’d talked so much to him. For a split second he’d given thought to the idea that Dr. Pinkie could have had a good idea in the femininity discussion earlier in the evening.

“Uhhh…Zack?”

“Yeah?” He was a little surprised to see her again.

“Were you in my room earlier?”

“What? Huh? I don’t know, why?”

Kelly shook her head. “I just…I caught your scent. Maybe it’s from laundry yesterday.”

“Hmmm…” Zack hadn’t had to think on his feet for a long time. “That sounds like a good excuse—I mean idea.” According to look on Kelly’s face, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it, either.

“So you weren’t in there?”

“Kelly.”

“And you didn’t open my underwear drawer?”

“Do I look like some weirdo walking around here in ladies underwear, Kel?”

She gave a weak smile. “I was just curious. And no, you’re not a thong wearing sicko.” She turned around and headed back to her room. “Night.”

“Night!” He breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed and he stood there alone. “Goddamn Pinkie! At least she didn’t mention wearing a bra.” Then, he wrinkled his brow. “Maybe I shouldn’t have taken the one on top.”

*~*~*

All he wanted to do was get a couple hours sleep. He really didn’t think he was asking for much. That was before the phone rang. Again. “Wahllo?” Sam slurred incoherently as he fumbled with his cell.

“You’re asleep?” Where ever Josh was calling from was loud and obnoxious. To Sam, this exacerbated the loud and obnoxious qualities of the man’s voice.

“Call it strange, but they started to recommend governors get at least two hours a week.” He shifted slightly and propped the phone his head and his pillow. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Really? You’re waking me up for nothing? Remind me to kick your ass in the morning.”

Josh’s tone suddenly became softer and less obnoxious. “I can’t do this, Sam.”

“Do what?”

“I can’t get this man elected President. I’m not sure I could get this man elected city council.”

“Well, he does come off as the ‘Get Off My Lawn’ candidate.”

“I could _work_ with that.”

Sam sighed. “Just walk away. You have no commitment to Gibbs. Tell the DNC that you aren’t a miracle worker and cut your losses. If you need a job—”

“I made a deal and I’m riding it out. I told them I’d run this and give the campaign a shred of credibility under the conditions I get to run you within the decade.”

“You make it sound like I have a chance. Hell, after I attempt to wrangle California—which is an entirely different country from the rest of America—I may not have a career left to play with. Have you seen what the House is already pushing at me?”

“You can snap Langeberg in line by holding 492 over his head.”

“Not sure that would scare him. His seat’s locked up and he’s running hard on the fact that he can bring me down by making me veto the budget resolution they’re working up.”

“Whatever. The douche doesn’t have the balls to do that now. Not when I hear he’s thinking about running in the next cycle for the U.S. Senate.”

“If he takes down Burk then I think I may need to call in FEMA for assistance.”

“He can’t take her down. Not with the DNC pulling out the punches. She’s got a straight record. Even came out and said she was pro-life and pro-choice. No way they can hit her on that one. And with McCoy running the campaign, she’s pretty much locked.”

“So what stops Langeberg?”

“Ignorance and greed. In my opinion his two best qualities.”

“Well, okay. Still not sure why you called me at two in the morning for this, though.”

“Because after strategy tonight I realized we’re fucked.”

“Again, I think you should cut and run. Take MSNBC up on that pundit position. In a year you’d be hosting primetime. Write a couple books and then see if you have another presidential campaign up your sleeve.”

“No. They’ve told me that they want you and I want you, too. The country is gonna need a guy like you. Especially after we get creamed in the next go round.”

“Everyone is so sure that Letterman has this?”

“Yeah, we are. And things aren’t looking much better in four unless a couple of these guys get their heads out of their asses.”

“They’re still talking about running Atkinson next?”

“Yeah, and while he’s an awesome senator, the Midwest and the Independents are just gonna smash him.”

“On the atheism issue.”

“Of course. How are we gonna get an atheist elected? We haven’t even gotten the electorate over its fear of women. Think about it.”

Sam sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

“But we’re running on empty. All the key players and afraid to be the star. And without a star, we’re stuck with Gibbs.”

“So fine. Deal with the fact that Letterman is gonna win and move on.”

“I can’t do it. Right now we’re still going through the primaries and I think Hitler is gonna beat Gibbs as a write-in.”

“Hitler? Seriously? I’d figure Harry Potter would take it.”

“I need a stump.”

“So, get your team on it. Tell them not to include ‘damn’ no matter how many times Gibbs suggests it.”

“Nobody can write this one. I need something good. Something to make it appear as though we aren’t just passing it over to the Republicans without a fight. I need you.”

“What?” Now his was sitting straight up in bed. “You want me to write the stump speech for a man who has absolutely no chance of making it while I’m trying to run a state and make a feeble attempt to run myself in eight years time?”

“Yes.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Sam—”

“No, seriously. I think you’ve cracked.”

“Ghost-write me something. Something good. Not too good, mind you. I want you to save that stuff for yourself.”

“Josh—”

“Your campaign speeches made national news throughout the campaign. People were talking about you being the greatest political writer of a generation. Write something weak. Something you bring back in a few years. A reminder for the people of how far we’ve come and how far we have yet to go. You know, your usual.”

Sam sighed in defeat. “Saying I do write this stump, which in no way, shape or form have I agreed to do. When would you need it?”

“There’s gonna be a lot going on with the U.N. General Assembly meeting next week. I’m working hard on getting Gibbs on the floor.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No.”

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“Sam, you’ve wrote this kind of thing before.”

“With months of preparation, Josh! Months! Stumps are hard enough without thinking about the international implications of putting it to the General Assembly!”

“I’m not saying you have to hit it out of the park. I’m just asking if you could make it look like we showed up to watch the game.”

Sam slammed the phone shut and threw it on the table. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if Josh Lyman was his best friend or his greatest enemy. Growling in complaint—in a manner which would make Terry Gibbs proud—he got out of bed and headed to his laptop. He knew he better get started if he was about to help a man lose the election of a lifetime. 

*~*~*

It felt all so domestic. Sitting on a seat without a cushion and tapping the chair’s arm in an effort to keep himself from exploding with movement. Buffy had walked with them to the meeting, chattering inanely about anything to keep herself occupied, and left a parting kiss on Spike’s lips. She’d be at the butcher, she said, collecting more chicken feet. It was almost time to pay the good doctor, after all, and he only took one method of currency.

Bloody creepy.

The receptionist looked familiar. Too familiar.

“Hello, Zack!”

Spike glanced to Zack, who shifted uncomfortably. “Hey, Vanna,” the younger vampire said.

“Who is this you have with you?”

“Spike. Dr. Pinkie suggested we come in together.”

“Oh, right!” Vanna jumped to her feet, extending her hand. “Hello, Spike. My name is Vanna Gray. Can I get you anything while you wait? Coffee? Tea? Bloody Mary?”

“Bloody Mary?” Spike repeated.

“It’s not what you think,” Zack said. “It’s blood from the pig. The group named her Mary.”

Vanna giggled and waved a hand. “It’s just a little private joke.”

“Right.”

“Would you like anything?”

Spike glanced between Zack and Vanna, then slowly shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Well, take a seat! We finally got in this month’s edition of _Goblins and Ghouls_ so read up and I’ll tell the doctor you’re here.”

The air fell strangely silent the minute Vanna disappeared into the next room. Spike and Zack just stood dumbly, not looking at each other but at the same time not knowing where else to look.

“This is weird,” Zack said.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Spike hesitated, then shook his head. “No.”

“Fair enough.”

*~*~*

Things didn’t get any less weird once inside Dr. Pinkie’s office.

Spike honestly didn’t know what to think of the bloke. Like the receptionist, he didn’t smell human, but there weren’t enough identifying characteristics to peg him as any one demon. He knew from experience that a number of humanoid demons identified as human, but based on the crowd waiting in the room next door, these weren’t the types to give themselves labels.

“Hello!” Dr. Pinkie exclaimed. His frizzy hair wobbled as though it held a life-force of its own. For all Spike knew, it might. “So good to finally meet you.”

“Yeah,” Spike drawled.

“I take it you know why you’re here?”

“’Cause Zangy said I had to come and I wanted to know why you asked him to dress up like a bird.”

Dr. Pinkie blinked and turned to Zack. “I asked you to dress up a like a bird?”

“He saw me.”

“Dressed like a bird. Where did you get the costume?”

“Not a bird bird, a woman.”

“A woman bird?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “This is brilliant, really. Is there a reason you asked me here, mate, or are we just gonna do this for the hour?”

“Yes, yes,” Dr. Pinkie said, leaning forward. “You play an integral role in Zack’s recovery, though I’m sure this doesn’t come as a surprise.”

“Mhmm.”

“Zack has so much as told me that his crimes against you, while without his soul, were among the harshest. You see, Zack acts out in ways that he knows will most affect those around him. He attacked Kelly through infidelity, and you through—”

“I know how he attacked me,” Spike spat. “Can we bloody get on with it?”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Zack murmured.

“Zack has a very domineering personality,” Dr. Pinkie continued. “As do you. I can tell just from how much you want to strangle me now.”

Spike quirked his head. “Really? You can tell that?”

“Spike—”

“No, this is enlightening. Really, thanks ever so, but kindly shoot your street psychology out your ass. I lived with Angelus, and he made better insights than you.”

“Oh, good!” Dr. Pinkie edged forward eagerly. “I sense anger.”

“You do, do you?”

“Of course! And an unwillingness to let go of past injuries.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “This is the quack you’ve been seeing?” he demanded, looking at Zack.

“I…”

“Zack attacked Buffy to get to you, and despite you know that he and his soulless counterpart are not the same person, you refuse to let yourself heal.” Dr. Pinkie nodded. “Zack’s father issues likewise play into his dealings with you. You’re his closest friend as well as the one who literally breathed him into demonic life. For such a domineering personality, it’s no wonder you two clash every now and then.”

“Clash?” Spike repeated. “Bloody clash?”

“Oh no,” Zack said, closing his eyes.

“This isn’t a matter of clashing, mate.” Spike jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing. “You don’t just smile an’ nod something like this away. Zack’s domineering? Fine. Fucking fine. I’m the sodding head of the Order.”

“Yes!” Dr. Pinkie looked delighted. “Yes, you are.”

“Zangy’s domineering personality can take a bloody backseat.” Spike shot Zack a look. “You don’t like it that you’re one of mine instead of the other way around?”

“I’m just sitting here,” Zack replied, his hands coming up.

“This isn’t something you hash out here, mate.”

“Buffy told me to.”

“Yes, yes!” Dr. Pinkie bounced in excitement. “Go with your feelings!”

“Well, Buffy was wrong.” Spike’s nostrils flared. “We were all bloody wrong. You can’t fix vamp issues in a sodding doctor’s office.”

“I thought my issues were _my_ issues, not vamp issues.”

“Fine. You want me to go off?”

“I just want to do what I need to do to make things right.”

“You _can’t_ make things right!” Spike snapped. “This isn’t like breaking a piece of fucking pottery. You tortured her.”

“YES!” Dr. Pinkie exclaimed.

“Yes,” Zack said woefully.

“Yes,” Spike agreed. “And sending you here was a nice little way for us all not to deal with it. Think Kelly’s getting any better? Think Buffy can stand to look at you? We’re pretending this is all well and good, but bloody hell, do _you_ feel any better?”

Zack wiggled. “Well, not at the moment.”

“She said not to avoid it. We couldn’t. We had to take steps toward making things right again. This joker isn’t the answer.”

Dr. Pinkie was flailing too hard at what he perceived was a substantial breakthrough to make a comment.

“So what do you want to do?”

“Deal with it.” Spike turned to Dr. Pinkie. “You’re fired.”

“YES!” Dr. Pinkie screamed. Then he paused, his smile fading. “Wait…what?”

“You’re fucking fired, mate.”

“Why am I fired?”

“Because this is a nice way to avoid actually having to cope with what happened.” Spike smiled nastily. “And, quite frankly, because I don’t like you.”

For a wild second, Spike thought the doc might cry. He didn’t.

“Come on,” he said to Zack, who was looking at him like his was a mix between a hero and a madman. “We’ve wasted enough time with this clown.”

It was only then that Dr. Pinkie burst into tears.

*~*~*

Night had fallen some time ago. The city looked absolutely miraculous at night.

There was something truly inspiring about the nation’s capital. Willow felt it every time she came, no matter how brief her stay or the motives behind it.

“How tall do you think he’d be standing up?”

Willow turned and grinned at three of her closest friends. Ron and Hermione stood side by side, Ron’s hand curled protectively around Hermione’s middle, though anyone who knew them would know Hermione stood a better chance of saving all their asses if the occasion rose. Harry stood a couple feet away, dressed casually. All three were focused on the Lincoln Memorial.

“Maybe pass for a decent giant,” Ron ventured. “Little thin around the middle, though.”

“This one could speak in complete sentences,” Hermione said. “Not many giants can boast the same.”

“Load of good that’d do. ‘Don’t beat me to death! Let me bedazzle you with my command of language!’”

“I doubt the president would say ‘bedazzled,’ Ronald.”

“Since when did you become an authority in American politics?”

“Long before you ever were.”

“What time is the function tomorrow?” Harry asked, looking over his shoulder. “It’s not first thing in the morning, is it?”

Willow grinned and took a few steps forward. “No,” she agreed. “Jet-lagged?”

“What?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Fatigued after the flight. And yes, I believe we all are.”

“Bloody terrified, you mean,” Ron said. “Good luck getting me back on one of those death traps, Willow. The thing bounced a kilometer high as we landed.”

“Ron’s never used Muggle means of transportation over great distances.”

“I haven’t, either.” Harry shrugged. “The Dursleys weren’t the sort to include me in their family holiday plans.”

“D’you figure we could Apparate back?” Ron asked hopefully.

Hermione looked skeptical. “Over an ocean? I don’t think so.”

“Safer than a flying saucer.”

“It’s a plane, and it’s perfectly safe.” Hermione sighed and shook her head. “I believe the UN function is sometime tomorrow evening.”

“That’s right,” Willow said. “Should be around eight.”

“Which gives us plenty of time to sleep in,” Ron said satisfactorily. At the look he received from his wife, he balked and said, “What? I don’t ever get to sleep in at home. It’s always roddy Ministry work, if one of our brats doesn’t wake us up first.” He looked to Willow. “I never understood why Mum looked forward to term so much until ours were born.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

“We also need to think of pseudonyms for you three,” Willow said.

At that, they all looked at her askance.

“What for?” Harry demanded.

“Because you three showing up with your names will raise serious questions. You’re famous over here for a completely different reason than back home.” Willow sighed. “Muggles here read the books. A lot.”

“I bloody hate that Rowling woman,” Ron growled. “She’s Rita Skeeter all over again.”

Hermione said, “All right. What sort of name do you fancy I should take?”

“Rose,” Ron supplied, shrugging. “Might as well, took long enough to come up with those names in the first place. Rose Crookshanks.”

Hermione smirked. “Right. And you’ll be Hugo, I suppose?”

“Whatever works.”

“I’ll be James,” Harry volunteered. “I get called it enough by people who knew my parents.”

“Last name?”

“I’ll be really surly and go by Snape.”

Ron sniggered appreciatively.

“Well,” Willow said, sighing. “That settles it.”

“Oi,” Harry said, nodding to something behind her. “Looks like someone’s trying to get your attention.”

It had been several long months since Willow stood on Sam Seaborn’s doorstep, only to be encountered by an attractive blonde woman. How or why said blonde woman, whose name she couldn’t place, would remember her, particularly from the backside, was beyond her.

But honestly, it wasn’t the woman who had her attention.

It didn’t seem possible after the lengths to which she’d gone months ago to see Sam Seaborn that the man would just be out and about without his body guard. Willow inhaled deeply, incredulous. The shock of his face, not imagined or dreamed, rattled through her body with more force than she cared to admit.

Her hand fell to her large stomach. This was so not the way she wanted him to find out.

“Merlin’s beard,” she muttered.

“What?” Ron demanded. “Who is it?”

“Wait,” Harry said. “Didn’t you say that bloke you shagged was from—”

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed.

Willow turned around furiously. “Not a word about the baby.”

“I think he’s going to notice,” Ron said grimly. “You’re as big as Hagrid after Christmas.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “My husband the poet,” she said apologetically.

Willow drew in a deep breath and turned again just as Sam and the blonde came within earshot. Sam couldn’t look more surprised if she’d suddenly sprouted horns and a navy toga.

“Willow,” he said, his voice bathed in awe.

The blonde at his side blinked expectantly. Something twinged in Willow’s chest, and the baby decided to make himself known by delivering a powerful kick to her stomach. She did her best to ignore it. “Hi, Sam,” she said, beaming a terrific smile she felt nothing of and doing everything she could to look not-pregnant. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yes.” He swallowed visibly. “You look…” His eyes fell to her belly. “Pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“Wow, can’t get anything past this one,” Ron whispered loudly.

“You’re pregnant,” Sam echoed.

“Congratulations!” said the blonde.

“Yes.” Willow’s fake smile began to hurt. “Thank you.”

“Hullo,” Harry said quickly, putting himself between Willow and Sam. “I’m Ha—Hames. I mean James. James, er, Snape.”

Sam started at the outstretched hand before him. “Nice to meet you, James Ersnape.”

Ron sniggered loudly.

“We’re here for the Assembly,” Harry said. “On part of the Ministry.”

“Ministry?”

“Oh dear,” Hermione murmured, stepping forward. “The Prime Minister.”

“Right,” Harry said. “We work with Willow in England.”

Sam’s eyes widened. “Oh, you’re…” He glanced from Willow to Harry to Willow again, seemingly putting everything in place. “You’re…one of Willow’s friends.”

“Yes. She’s a Yank, so we figured she’d be a good guide,” Harry said.

“And you’re the governor,” Willow said. At Sam’s shocked, befuddled look, she allowed herself a soft, genuine smile. “It’s all right, Sam. I do catch the news every now and again. Congratulations, truly.”

“Thank you.” His eyes drifted back to her belly. “You’re…wow, how far along are you?”

“Oh,” Willow said, blushing. “I expect to be a mom any day now.”

“And they let you travel?” the blonde asked.

“I insisted.”

“That can’t be safe for the baby.”

Ron huffed. “That flying death machine isn’t safe for anyone.”

The blonde looked puzzled, but thankfully Harry stepped in before she could inquire any further. “We’re taking good care of her,” he said, putting an arm around Willow. “Wicked good care.”

“Uh huh,” Willow agreed weakly.

Sam’s jaw ticked. He seemed fixated on Harry’s arm. “Good.”

“Right, well…”

“We better get back,” Willow said. “I mean, we’re all still on England time, which makes it…I don’t know, but very late for us.”

“Yes,” Hermione said, stepping forward. “It was nice to meet you, Governor.”

“Very,” Harry said.

Sam nodded. “Nice to meet you all, too. And you, Willow…so good to see you again.”

The baby kicked and her heart pounded. “Thank you.”

She had been prepared never to see him again. Had actually built up the image of her life to come on the certainty their paths would never again cross. Yet for as painful as the thought had been, she seemed quite certain she could have lived happily without seeing the look on his face.

Or the woman at his side.

*~*~*

Faith wasn’t exactly the handyman type, but with Gunn on assignment and Rosalie and Hunter fuck-knew-where, these menial tasks seemed to be falling in her lap more and more frequently.

“Come on, you sonofabitch,” she murmured, twisting the wrench as far as she could. The exercise bar really hadn’t looked this difficult to install in the manual.

Her lips twitched at that. Had someone told her a year ago that she would be living across the globe in Zack Wright’s hotel, babysitting a slayer and doing odd jobs that needed doing, she would have laughed her ass off. Yet here she stood; her legs planted on a foldout chair, her hair getting in her face and her hands dirty for reasons beyond comprehension.

She was setting up a playroom for her surrogate baby sister, something she’d never had.

The basement at the Hyperion had transformed slowly over the last few months. While the cage they’d utilized during Zack’s reign of terror remained standing in case they needed it again, the memories born there had been safely hidden behind a cheap wall. Wright and Hunter had put it up over one hot summer weekend, leaving Rosalie in Faith’s care. That had been a fun time. Little bit of patrol, a lotta bit of clubbing. Their little secret.

Rosalie kept asking her when they could do it again. Faith didn’t know, truthfully. She enjoyed the bond she had with the kid, but likewise knew she couldn’t lead her down the wrong path. Rosalie didn’t have a decade of experience backing her calling; she hadn’t yet tasted the call of the dark, and these first few years shaped the road a slayer took. Fuck knew it had for her.

Faith sighed and fisted the wrench again. “All right, sucka,” she muttered. “You wanna piece of me?”

“That’s not advisable.”

How the hell had she not she noticed another’s presence? Faith tripped in surprise, but Wesley caught her just as easily. His arms went around her waist.

“Motherfucker,” Faith snapped, jerking herself free. “Need a bell around your neck.”

“I’d think that’d just bring out the dominatrix in you.”

She shrugged. “Haven’t tied you up in a while. You think I should?”

“You were never one to ask first.”

“Things change. There a reason you’re sneaking around on young, impressionable girls?”

Wesley smirked. “I think we abandoned the _impressionable_ stage a while ago, don’t you?”

“Hey. I could regress.” She wiped her arm along her chin, taking with it sweat and dirt. “Is there somethin’ you needed?”

“Just wanted to see what you were up to.”

She nodded toward the bar. “Setting up the jungle gym.”

“Ah. Rosalie and Nicholas are…”

“On patrol.”

Wesley nodded. “Would you like a hand?” he asked. “I can assure you, these chairs aren’t exactly made of steel. I’d hate for you to be the first slayer in history to die of a broken neck.”

“Would it count if I’ve already died once?”

“I don’t want to find out, do you?”

“Not particularly.” Faith sighed and twirled the wrench in her hand. “All right, cowboy. On your knees.”

Wesley’s eyes went wide, but he did as she said. “Dominatrix?”

“Nah. Just gonna straddle you.” And she did. She tossed a leg over each shoulder, her feminine center now pressed against the back of his neck. “Think you can handle it?”

Wesley rose to his feet. He wobbled a bit, but he didn’t falter. “Giddy-up.”

*~*~*

Sam couldn’t concentrate.

The speech was done—well, mostly done. He had read and reread over every word about fifty times now, and everything save the last paragraph seemed absolutely perfect. It was for that reason Ainsley had walked him around outside. Everything seemed a bit more manageable once the blood started flowing.

He just hadn’t anticipated Willow.

Pregnant.

The thought made his eyes cross with jealousy.

It had to have happened right after they parted ways. Not a year had passed since their tryst. He knew. He remembered everything about that weekend and the chaos that followed, particularly because the special election had been held not long after. He remembered everything, and he had definitely known she’d been single then.

So she’d gone back to England and gotten herself pregnant.

Sam sighed, tunneling his fingers through his hair. Willow pregnant. The window of opportunity, if it had ever been open, now sat steadfastly shut. It was probably that guy’s kid—James Ersnape, the one who knew her from their world. A nice abnormal, magic-prone guy for a witch. It was what Willow needed. What Josh had told him she needed.

It made Sam want to try some of that dark magic he’d read up on.

It was crazy. Beyond crazy. Even he had admitted their brief, intense relationship had been a bit much…but dammit, he couldn’t help but think they had something worth exploring.

He hadn’t been prepared to see her. Not tonight. Not like this.

Not with her pregnant by another man.

Sam stared at the paragraph. His voice had vanished.

He needed to call Josh.

*~*~*

Josh sighed with relief when he looked at the caller ID. Sam Seaborn had never let him down, and now his best friend was about to pull through with the speech he needed to make it through November. “So, I can check my inbox?”

“I saw Willow tonight.”

The wheels turning in his head came to an abrupt halt. “Huh?”

“Yeah, she’s here in DC. Apparently, she came with the British delegation for the thing tomorrow.”

“Wow. And it went okay?”

“Are you asking if I pulled her into my arms and declared my undying love? Trust me, you’re safe.”

“Really?”

“She’s got a boyfriend, Josh. Had some pompous looking jack-wagon wrapping an arm around her the moment I said hello.”

“She’s got a boyfriend?”

“Apparently, she’s had one since the moment she flew back to the mother-land. Some douchebag named James Ersnape. How pretentious is that? With his snooty accent and good posture. I wanted to punch him.”

Josh ran a nervous hand through his curly hair. “Did you?”

“No. I didn’t want to give Willow the satisfaction of knowing I cared that much. She literally walked off the plane and went to _James’_ place. She was as big as a bus. For all I know she’s about to have twins.”

Josh’s heart stopped. “She’s pregnant?”

“Oh yeah. Her and Ersnape looked awfully proud of that. With their touching and looking and…acting all British.”

“She’s really pregnant?”

“If by really, you mean far along, then yes. Ainsley doesn’t figure she should have traveled, but Willow didn’t seem concerned. I guess with a handsome wizard like Ersnape along, she felt all warm and fuzzy about their little holiday.”

“Willow is pregnant?” The wheels were spinning at full speed now. If Willow was about to pop that meant the timing matched up exactly to the time she was here. With Sam.

“I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but you were right.”

“I was?”

“Yes. Josh, you told me that I didn’t fit in her world. You told me to get over myself and move on. Yet, here I am nearly a year later and I haven’t been with another woman. I mean, there is this receptionist who works for the communications director that I’ve flirted with a bit. I even considered asking her to dinner. But, no. Here I was still pining after a pregnant witch who’s hitting it off with some jackass with a haughty accent and a pompous name like James Ersnape.”

Josh was confused. Sam wasn’t making any sense. “You’re with Ainsley, though.”

“No, she’s in her room right now.”

“I mean, you’re dating Ainsley. You’re talking about flirting with receptionists and not having sex, when you’ve been with Ainsley for over six months now.”

Sam laughed. Josh grew nauseous. “Ainsley and I have been going out together, but we’ve never considered ourselves in a relationship. I just made you think that so you’d leave me alone. There was never anything between us but two friends appearing in public together.”

Josh began pacing the room. Not only was Sam not in the stable relationship he had assumed, but now Willow was back. And pregnant. With Sam’s child. “Wait a minute—”

“Josh, you don’t have to worry.” The man responded to Josh’s frantic laughter. “I mean it. Ainsley and I haven’t said anything to accuse us of lying. We’ve just not corrected you or the press when they refer to us as a couple. She’s keeping her boyfriend quiet and—”

“Now there’s a boyfriend?” He thought he might have a heart-attack.

“There was always a boyfriend. But seriously, there’s nothing to worry about.” Sam sighed and Josh tried to catch his breath. “As for Willow…it was hard seeing her again, but I think it was a good thing. A wake-up call that I need to grow up and get over it. Seeing her with Sir Ersnape of Dickwad, I realized that she’s moved on. They’re about to have a baby. Really not much of a chance unless I want to go after another guy’s baby momma.”

“Oh fuck.” It was all sinking in.

“I’m not. I know when I’m beat.”

He really didn’t get it. The fucking governor of California didn’t realize he’d made a love child with the woman he slept with nearly nine months ago. The woman who tried for weeks on end to get in touch with him. Likely to inform him that he was about to be a father. Maybe Josh had given Sam too much credit. This puzzle wasn’t hard to complete. “So…yeah.”

“The speech is in your inbox. I put the finishing touches on it just now. I just wanted to give you a heads up that you’ll likely see her there tomorrow. It’s cool, so don’t go and make it a thing. Okay?”

Oh, Josh was pretty sure this was going to be a thing.

*~*~*

As Zack unlocked the front door, he wished that Kelly was already in her room for the night. He wasn’t feeling good about the session at Dr. Pinkie’s office and Spike’s quite stalk back to the apartment did little to answer all the questions burning inside.

He understood what he had said. He knew this wasn’t easy for anyone. Some days it felt as though he was the only one that was beginning to try and move on. The way they all avoided his gaze and conversations died the moment he entered the room. The way everyone went through the motions of everyday life when all he wanted to do was scream. He needed them to react. He needed them to do something. Kill him. Banish him. Forgive him. He couldn’t keep living like this.

But he couldn’t help that part of him that was pissed off at Spike. Pissed at the way he sought to control his life. Now his sessions were over? Fine, but did Zack have a choice in the matter? He never wanted to go, but over the past few months he had started to get comfortable again. At least there, people would talk to him. People would look him in the eye and listen as he explained all the emotions inside. At least he felt like he had a friend left in the world. There was somebody who’s life wouldn’t be better if he was dead.

As luck would have it, she was still up. He saw the TV shut off the moment he opened the door. He only caught a flicker, but it had looked like a wedding scene from a chick flick. Kelly had hopped off the sofa and looked to be quickly wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sure. You know…Kelly cried at everything. Kinda what I’m known for.” She inhaled deeply, causing a loud sniffle before weakly attempting a smile. “How was Vanna—I mean therapy? Aren’t you home early?”

“Uhhh…” Vanna? “It didn’t go so well. Spike didn’t like how my sessions were going so he made Dr. Pinkie cry. We left after that.”

“Oh,” she hadn’t seemed to be listening as she went over to the VCR and popped out a tape. He tried to read the title, but she turned it the other direction before he caught a glimpse. “So, guess Spike got to meet your friends, huh?”

“Not really. We made it from the lobby to the office.”

“Was Vanna there?”

He arched a brow. “Well, she is the receptionist. Think she offered drinks. Had to explain the joke about the Bloody Marys. Mary is the office pig so a Bloody Mary would be…well, you know.”

“Oh, that’s funny.” She made a pitiful attempt at a laugh. “They bring that in for you?”

“Well, Sheldon is afraid to eat live animals. His cousin gave it to him as a gift and he freaked out. Brought it to group one night and…” He had the feeling that saying Vanna’s name right now wouldn’t go over well. “The office has been taking care of it ever since.”

“So Vanna gets you blood. And makes you cupcakes. And you go out with her for coffee after meetings. Sounds like you two are quite good friends.” He noted the bitter tone on the end of that last sentence and he didn’t like it.

He was determined to shrug it all off. He really just wanted to go to his room. This was a conversation he really wanted to save for another night. “Well, there was group of us. Anyway, Spike flipped out and now wants to have a talk. Sure we’ll hear about it whenever he wants to get it done. Order issues.”

“Oh.” Kelly blinked at the change of subject. Zack was hopeful that was a sign that the previous topic was finished. “Well, I’m sure Buffy will give a call whenever they get it figured out.”

“Yeah.” He gave a sigh of relief. Taking a tentative step, he made way toward his room.

“So, you said Spike didn’t like your therapy?”

“No.” It came out harsher than you intended.

“Are you going back?”

“I really don’t know what Spike will allow me to do next.” That one he had intended.

“Yeah, I guess it would be hard not to see your _friends_ all the time.”

He knew he shouldn’t do it. He knew he should just keep walking. But he didn’t. “Ask me.”

As he spun around to face her, she spoke. “What?”

“Just ask me already.”

She looked at the floor. Like always, she had avoid his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Something snapped inside of him. Marching up to her, he grabbed her chin and directed it directly to his face. “Look at me. And ask me, dammit!” He wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he touched her or the fact that he was growling that she looked so terrified.

“I—I…don’t—” She looked paralyzed as she was forced to look straight into his eyes.

He felt her shudder. He felt her cool breath flicker across his cheeks. He hadn’t been so close to her in so long that he felt weak inside. “Ask me if I cheated on you. Ask me if I’m having an affair with Vanna. With anyone.”

“No,” she whispered. She began shaking her head violently. She started to pull away, but he tightened his grip on her throat and pulled her back toward him.

“You want to know, don’t you? We haven’t spoken more than two sentences in close to a fucking year, but now every other word out of your mouth is the name of another woman. You want to know the truth, Kelly? Do you really want to know?”

“I—I…stop…”

“No. No, Kelly, I’m not having an affair. No, Kelly, I’m not even cheating on you with Vanna. You want to know why? Besides the fact that I’m a married man with a wife and kids I would give my fucking life for? Do you know that the only reason I keep from staking myself every night is the chance that we might someday be a family again? That someday my kids won’t have nightmares about me and my wife…” He let out a growl. “My wife will decide whether or not she ever wants me to stay or go.” He shook his head and dropped his hand from her. She didn’t move. Her eyes kept fixed on his. Her expression was shear terror. “You know what I think every time I look at Vanna? I see Fred. She looks just like Fred. I see her and I want to break down and scream. Tell her how sorry I am. Tell her that I didn’t mean to. Tell her it wasn’t me. It wasn’t me! I didn’t fucking do it! I didn’t kill her! I didn’t torture Buffy! I didn’t hurt William! I didn’t hurt you! That wasn’t me. I wasn’t there and I couldn’t stop what happened, Kelly! _It wasn’t me!_ ”

He was pretty sure the entire building was awake now. He could hear Rosie and William scrambling from their beds. He couldn’t deal with them. He couldn’t deal with himself. He tore his gaze away from her finally and his eyes trailed downward, focusing on the tape still clenched in her hands. He didn’t know if it was mere curiosity or the fact he secretly suspected what it was that made him grab it.

_Zack and Kelly’s Wedding : 1994_

He dropped it to the floor as soon as he read the title. He couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t do it anymore. Before he could think, he was at the door. He shut it behind him before Kelly could even move. He thought he heard her whisper his name as he traveled down the hall. He told himself he was delusional and kept on walking.

*~*~*

Oh, this was a Kodiak moment. Quietly, as he could he slipped out his phone and snapped a shot. With all the grunting and shifting going on, he was sure neither of them had noticed he had entered the basement.

“Would you hold still? I’m almost fucking done. No thanks to you.” Faith was snarling as she worked to tighten a bolt.

“Well,” Wesley gasped as he tried to hold her up on his shoulders. “I’m beginning to get dizzy. You’re suffocating me with your bloody thighs.”

Hunter began to giggle. He moved up right behind them and said in a low voice, “She forgets how tight that grip of hers can be. Have to remind her all the time.”

He obviously had started the man because in an instant Faith was flying backward directly at him. Instinctively, he raised his arms up and caught the pissed slayer before she hit the ground. “Goddammit!” she shrieked.

Wesley turned around red-faced and panting. Hunter figured the guy was suffering oxygen deprecation. Faith just glared at him. He couldn’t help but smile. “Howdy, little lady. Fancy meeting you here ‘round these parts.” His American accent wasn’t too shabby, he thought.

“Stop it,” she said scrambling to the floor. “You sound like an idiot. And what the fuck is that supposed to be? Please don’t tell me that was supposed to be a southern drawl.”

Apparently he failed. He was going to have to practice a bit more. “Sorry to interrupt you guys, but I had to get a picture of that.”

“It wouldn’t have been funny had Captain Weeble Wobble over here learned how to stand still as a small child.”

Wesley looked offended. “I was doing fine until you started cutting off my air supply.” He then turned his attention to Hunter. “I hope you aren’t offended by this.”

Hunter laughed. “Offended? Mate, that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all day. And that includes that _Little House of the Outback_ I saw earlier.”

“Prairie,” Faith corrected. “And you aren’t allowed to watch that anymore. It makes you talk like a dumbass.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Hunter scoffed.

“What’s tonight’s definition of bad?” she countered.

Wesley cleared his throat. Hunter and Faith turned to him expectantly. “What I meant,” the other man began. He looked nervous as he shifted back and forth. “Was that I hope you weren’t offended by…” he gestured to Faith and then to the bar. “I hope I didn’t step on your territory.”

Hunter arched a brow. “You’ve known Rosalie longer than I have. I think it’s terrific that she’s got such a support group. It’s making her transition into becoming the Chosen One go smoother than I anticipated. I think things like this do her a lot of good. Of course you should help her out.”

“That wasn’t what I meant.” Wesley cast a weary glance to Faith. “I meant…well…I know that most men grow a bit…possessive of their…I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about Faith and I.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide as he turned to face her. He was comforted by the look of pure shock on her face. Before he could think of a sensible retort, he was giggling his head off. “You…” Oh, he didn’t think he could talk for a minute. He gestured to Faith and then started laughing again.

Faith didn’t seem to find it as hilarious as he did. Indeed, she looked pissed. “You think that he has any right to be _possessive_ over me? I can do whoever, whenever and whatever I want and Nicky here doesn’t have a damn bit of say in the matter.”

“Well…” Wesley’s face grew even redder than ever.

“She’s right,” Hunter said after finally recovering the ability to speak. “Can’t even get her to hand my knickers unless I ask her right.”

“You’re not helping,” Faith snapped at him, causing him to giggle once again.

“Oh, well. I obviously said that wrong,” Wesley amended. “Of course with Faith…”

“Faith is her own independent franchise,” the brunette slayer quipped. “She doesn’t need a sponsor.”

“Certainly.” Wesley began to move toward the door. Hunter figured the man was afraid Faith was about to beat the shit out of him. Hunter figured he was about to have the shit beat out of himself, but hopefully she’d consider it foreplay. “I better go and check on…something.” With that, Wesley had made his exit.

Hunter was still giggling when she wheeled on him with a blow that sent him all the way to the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He wasn’t laughing anymore as he winced with pain and pulled himself off the floor. He was still amused though. “I was wondering the same thing about you.”

“He thinks we’re a fucking couple! That’s what’s wrong. And you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.”

“Mostly because I don’t give a damn what he thinks. I really don’t give a bloody damn what anybody thinks.”

“Really? Not even Jail Bait?”

He ignored answering that second question. “As long as you and I have our understanding that this…I use the term relationship in its loosest form…is nothing more than two individuals who enjoy sexual activity as a means of relaxation and pleasure. I haven’t changed my intentions since Rio and I doubt you have either.”

“Fuck right I haven’t.” She still seemed a bit huffed, but had calmed down considerably. “I’m like Julia Roberts at the beginning of _Pretty Woman_ ,” she said as Hunter walked back over to her. “Except I don’t mind the kissing on the mouth.”

“Good,” Hunter replied, grabbing her and pulling her close. “Because I’m a bit fond of that, too.” With that, he grabbed her and gave her a kiss that seemed to make them both a little dizzy once it was all over.

“Wait a minute, Cowboy,” Faith said, seeming to recover her composure seconds after they released their bond. “Are you sure you’re Richard Gere at the beginning and not Gere at the middle or end?”

He gave her a smirk. “Not even sure what you’re talking about. But, I’ll say this: if you and I were the kind of people to lay our cards on the table, I’m sure we’d be playing with an even deck.”

“Just as long as this isn’t going to lead to dates, rings, babies, commitments, fights over me fucking other guys, spooning and all that other shit.”

“Faith, I can’t even decide if I like you as a person.”

Her face lit up at that. “Good. Now let’s get down to business. I got a few ideas on how to test out that bar.”


	3. Chapter 3

The call came to the suite at The Willard shortly after 7am. Predictably, Ron was the quickest to react. He had grabbed his wand and rushed over to the table, pointing it at the ringing object. It took him a minute before he caught himself. “Hey! I think it’s the fellytone!”

“Telephone, Ronald,” Hermione corrected as she rolled over and sat herself up in bed. “And you need to answer it to make it stop.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said a little sheepishly. He picked up the receiver and shouted. “Hello! Hello!”

The other end didn’t sound very pleased. “I need to speak to Willow Rosenberg. This is an emergency.”

“Oh!” Ron said, continuing to yell. “Okay. I will get her. I am going to put this thing down, now. I will come back once I go get Willow. Okay?”

“Are you an idiot or something?” The caller sounded irate.

“Blimey,” Ron said dropping the receiver on the floor. “That man is a wanker.”

Hermione smiled. “Probably didn’t appreciate you screaming into the microphone.”

“There’s a…what?”

“Never mind that,” she said with a laugh. “Go get Willow.”

Ron went and brought back the half-asleep witch. She obviously had awoken from the call and the subsequent yelling. Making Ron pick up the receiver off the floor, she spoke to the caller. “This is Willow Rosenberg.”

The man on the other end let out an exasperated sigh. “Finally.”

“Josh?”

“Are you going to tell Sam or am I?”

“Josh? Why are you calling me at 7am?”

“You might be pretending that you got knocked up by this Ersnape guy, but you and I both know that’s Sam’s baby you’re carrying. So, who’s gonna tell him?”

“Wait—What?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“You think I’m pretending to be with…” She started to giggle.

“This isn’t funny.”

“You think I’m pretending to be with Harry Potter?”

“Ersnape. Some guy named James Ersnape that Sam saw you with last night. He was telling me that he figures you two hooked up after you went back. I on the other hand, know how hard you tried to get in touch with him, so I doubt you found a random wizard the moment you got off the plane.”

“James Ersnape is Harry Potter.”

“You’re pretending to hook up with Harry Potter?” There was a pause. “You mean Harry Potter is here?”

“No and yes. And I really don’t have anything else to say to you, Josh Lyman.”

“Well, then you better be talking to Sam then!”

“Why?”

“To tell him you’re having his baby.”

“I never said that.”

“Willow!”

“Actually, thanks to you, I never got a chance to say anything to Sam.”

“Well, you never told me you were going to tell him _that_!”

“Sorry, I forgot to get permission first. I was a liability when I was just a witch with a crush. But now that I’m a witch with a crush and a baby…how you gonna pull that PR nightmare off?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that you need to tell him. And soon.”

“I tried. Remember? But you seemed to get in the way.”

“Sam has a right to know.”

“I thought that, too. But then this guy who kept butting in convinced me that it was better this way. Sam can have his life and I can have mine. No need for complications.”

“You’re having his baby. You have to tell him!”

“I’m not telling him anything, Josh. That time has passed. And what are you going to do? Go and tell Sam that you’ve been controlling his life the past nine months and you accidentally forgot to mention that Willow’s been trying to tell you she’s pregnant with your baby? Good luck.”

“Sam needs to know.”

“Fine, go ahead and tell him. Just leave me out of it. I have to go get ready.” With that she hung up the phone.

Willow just hoped that Josh didn’t have the guts to do it. She really didn’t think she had the guts to face Sam again.

*~*~*

He didn’t know what to think anymore.

The past few months had been more of the same, and that drove him out of his bloody mind. The same awkward pauses, the same look on everyone’s face, the same fake sodding smile, and the conversations mirrored over dinner. Tomorrow would be better, and the same old song. Buffy’s self-imposed distance and the empty look in her eyes. The quiet conversations he overheard between Buffy and Kelly, and the way they all dodged Zack or anything resembling actual interaction.

He’d hated it at first. The whole bloody notion. Buffy favored forgiveness and moving on, and though Spike could appreciate it, he’d never understood how she could look at the thing that had raped her as anything but a creature worthy of death. To her credit, she’d talked a good game. She’d rallied around the idea that Zack deserved forgiveness and rehabilitation, and they all needed to work together for the sake of the Order, their friendships, and their future. She’d come out as Zack’s primary proponent, and as soon as the dust settled and he no longer needed an advocate in court, she’d taken to ignoring him. Pretending everything was swell and nothing abnormal had happened at all. It was a nice way to say she was above it when she wasn’t, and that was, perhaps, the most telling aspect of her behavior over the past several months.

People didn’t just swallow the horrors in their life and move on without feeling the burn, and despite what biology claimed, Buffy was more human than she was vampire. The only thing vampire about her was her body and her diet. Everything else remained steadfastly the same as it ever had before her heart stopped and she took his blood into hers. Everything else about her remained human. She lived, she learned, she grew, she aged, and she accepted the world as she saw it around her, trying to be better, and succeeding in many areas, but otherwise being as much _Buffy_ as she ever was.

Spike sighed and fished a pack of smokes from his duster pocket. He’d been out for almost two hours now. Shortly after returning from the final meeting with Dr. Pinkie, Spike had been stirred off the couch by the sound of Kelly pounding on their door, tears streaming and words damn near impossible to decipher. Once he and Buffy worked out what she was trying to convey—Zack had left in a fit of anger and could be anywhere—Spike had flown out the door.

He didn’t know why he was here. He didn’t know from where the confusion mounted. A lifetime ago, it seemed, he’d told Zack, honestly, he wanted things back the way they had been. And while it seemed easy to lounge about and say Buffy hadn’t followed through on her oh-so-brilliant plan, as much of it fell at his fault than anyone else. He hadn’t known, truly, how he felt…except caged and liable to break something if someone didn’t move.

It wasn’t natural. He’d never spent so much time cooped up in his life. And while he loved Buffy with everything he was, this _let’s pretend we’re doing better_ strategy would be the end of one of them. Vampires weren’t meant to be caged animals. They weren’t meant for therapy or group hugs or however much understanding Buffy thought Zack needed. It was a nice little way to avoid dealing with anything firsthand, and it ended now.

Spike had left Kelly with Buffy and stalked the few blocks separating their haven of make-believe to the doors of the Hyperion. He’d found Cordelia in the foyer, changing the baby’s diaper. The second their eyes clashed, she’d screamed at the top of her very shrill lungs for Wright, who barreled downstairs with the reflex of a man who had seen more destruction and tragedy in his life than any rightly should.

“What happened?”

“Zack’s missing.”

“Missing how?”

“Got brassed and stormed out, from what I figure. Bloody big town, mate. Feature lending a hand?”

And here he was. Wright had taken to the normal haunts—cemeteries, clubs, demon bars and the like. Spike, however, knew Zack wouldn’t be anywhere meaningless. He first ventured to the warehouse where Zack had stayed with Angelus and Darla. Upon finding nothing, he’d visited the alley where Wright had strung him up like a piñata. Then he hit the empty building where they had deposited Zack’s broken, bleeding body after the soul returned to him. Spike wondered about the nurse—the yappy one who had once been a friend, but had disappeared after the last violent encounter.

In honesty, though, he was just killing time. Spike knew where Zack would be. He just needed to suss a few things out on his own.

Now here he was. Lighting up a fag just outside the room that had once been a shrine of bloodshed. The white, pristine walls felt war-torn and haunted. Zack stood in the middle of the room, his eyes glued to one of the walls, full of anger and confusion, as though he could see the images that had once been there. The images no one could forget.

“I think I left something here,” Zack said hoarsely without looking away.

Spike said nothing, rather sighed and tore a hand through his hair.

“I thought it might be here.”

“What’s that?”

Zack shrugged and met his eyes. “No clue. What took you so long?”

“Didn’t know where to look.”

“Bullshit.”

Spike returned with a shrug of his own, but he could appreciate the honesty. “Right,” he said. “Needed to clear the upstairs a bit. Figure out what the bloody hell we think we’re doing here.”

“Once you get that figured out, let me know.”

“I reckon you have a piece to say to me. Let’s hear it.”

“You think this is about you?” Zack retorted, breaking away with a harsh laugh. “Of course. No, I forget. Everything is.”

“And it only took you losing your soul to suss that out.”

Zack blinked in surprise and met his gaze again, finally allowing a small grin. “Right.”

Spike was surprised when he felt himself return the grin. It was the first genuine moment they’d shared in a long time. “We made good talk, you know,” he said. “Or Buffy did.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“And she meant it, mate. Whatever else you think, you gotta know that.”

“Meaning it’s not enough.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t want to go there at all. Not at first. Thinking about what happened is hard enough, but talking about it…” Zack shuddered and sighed. “And Dr. Pinkie’s not exactly Sigmund Freud.”

Spike shrugged. “To be fair, Freud was a tosser.”

“You knew Freud?”

“He got pissed one night and shagged Dru, who kept calling herself his mum. Then he got all famous and coined himself a complex.”

Zack looked a little star struck. “Whoa.”

“I’m just worn down. Reckon the lot of us are.”

“They talked to me there.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. You really don’t. I didn’t want to go, but it was mine. It was something that was _mine._ All mine. I went, I talked, I got my therapy groove on, and yeah, maybe it helped a bit with what I’m going through—”

Spike’s brows perked. “Didn’t help the rest of us too much.”

“Yeah, how sad for you.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you bloody well know it.”

“I do? How would I? It’s not like anyone’s actually talked to me about anything important.”

“And there’s the rub. We’ve made a game of it, see. Send little Zacky off to the doctor to kiss his bloody boo-boo and the rest of us pretend the wreck that caused it never happened. Buffy talked it up, and I believed her.” Spike laughed and shook his head. “She’s just trying to survive, and she’s doing it the only way she knows. Same for Kelly. Same for me, for Christ’s sake. We sit here like whatever else and make like time will magically fix everything. You’re working toward it but we’re not.”

“Yes, exactly!”

“And that’s my point, mate. That’s why I went off on your sodding doctor.”

“It’s not his fault you guys are bad at following your own advice.”

“It’s not our fault, either,” Spike replied softly. “None of us have ever been here before. There’s not exactly a manual.”

“Then why—”

“We tried something and it didn’t work. No great surprise there, but it didn’t. And we knew it didn’t work, but none of us knew how to fix it. And I’ve just sat here and let it happen.” Spike snickered. “I’m no good at being the adult. That’s what Buffy’s for, but her logic’s all wonky. She can’t just walk it off anymore than Kelly can, but fuck knows she tried. It ends now. All of us looking sideways at each other and hoping one day the world’ll seem all right again.”

Zack fell quiet at that, placated for the moment. “What happens, then?” he asked softly.

“We deal with it. The lot of us.”

“That simple?”

“No, Zangy. It won’t be simple. And let’s be clear on something: I didn’t want you back before.”

Zack winced but didn’t say anything.

“Not after it happened. Not after the soul, even. I made a good show of not killing you, because I can’t just kill anyone, no matter how much I wanted to.”

“Would’ve made everything easier.”

“No, it wouldn’t. And I think you know that.”

Zack held his tongue again, though whether or not it was out of agreement was either man’s guess.

“We didn’t kill you. We let you back. And the second we let you back was the second I knew I actually wanted you back. Took a long time to suss out, I know, but I did. I just didn’t know how to deal with it. Any of it. You hurt me, you hurt her, you hurt everyone, but you know that already.”

Zack nodded grimly. “Thanks for the reminder.”

Spike snickered. “At the risk of sounding like a poof, I want you back.”

“You did sound like a poof.”

“Piss off.”

Zack grinned.

“And for all our sakes,” Spike continued, “we gotta deal with it head-on.”

“Seriously, are you hitting on me now?”

“Angelus change you that much?”

The mirth on Zack’s face faded. “Not funny.”

“Noticed you walked a little crooked during your stint as Peaches’ monkey.”

“You know what? Bite me.”

Spike smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Zack retorted, shrugging. “Just don’t tell Kelly. She gets jealous. We going back now?”

“I can make like I dragged you out if you want.”

“For the sake of pride?”

Spike shrugged. “It’s what friends are for.”

*~*~*

Wright sighed and slung his battleaxe off his shoulder. “Well, that was a bust.”

“What was a bust?”

He glanced up wearily. Rosalie sat on one of the foyer sofas in a pair of sweats and a tank top, looking as tired as he felt. On her lap was an open thick volume of some demon-y looking book. Another night of slayer studying. He didn’t know whether or not to be disconcerted that she hadn’t once mentioned how her semester was going.

“Finding your uncle,” he replied, setting the axe on the hotel check-in counter.

“Uh oh.” Rosalie sat up. “Which uncle?”

“The formerly bad one.”

“That doesn’t really narrow it down.”

Wright snickered appreciatively. “Zack.” He held up a hand. “Don’t worry, he’s not evil… He got in a fight with Kelly and took off. Spike and I were just out looking for him.”

Rosalie’s eyes narrowed. “You were just looking for a non-violent, totally-souled Uncle Zack with a battleaxe?”

He shrugged. “Dangerous town. What are you doing?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed melodramatically. “Lame-o book Hunter wants me to read. Something about slayers and the root of their power or whatever. Like I need to read up on why I kick ass to know that I do?”

“Speaking of Nancy…”

Rosalie nodded. “Downstairs. Fucking Faith.”

Wright’s eyes widened.

“Well, he is.”

“Do I wanna know how you know this?”

Rosalie shrugged. “Probably not.”

“Rosalie…”

“What? I was going downstairs to peruse the weapons in the backup cabinet, and saw something x-rated. They didn’t notice me.”

“Oh shit. Ummm, Rosalie…do you uhhh…”

She smirked and held up a hand. “Mom covered the whole birds and the bees thing with me a while back. It’s cool.” She glanced to the axe. “Though you might wanna put that up before she sees it. She’s been extra with the cranky since Kelly got into your bag of silver bullets.”

“Yeah.” Wright pursed his lips. “You’re sure you’re okay with…umm…what you saw?”

“All with the good.”

He didn’t know whether or not to believe her, but he did know when to stop pressing an issue.

Though he definitely needed to talk to Hunter and Faith about boundaries and what to keep in the bedroom.

*~*~*

“Hold still.”

“That stuff smells foul.”

“It’ll be over if you stop squirming.”

“Yeah, but then it’ll be on my head all night.”

“Do you want people to recognize you?”

“No.”

“Do you want people to mistake you for a Harry Potter impersonator?”

“As much fun as that’d be, no.”

“Then hold still.”

Harry made a face at her and winced as she applied the rest of her foundation to the infamous patch of skin along his brow. “Women really put this stuff on every day? Voluntarily?”

Willow smirked and smoothed out her finger’s strokes. “It makes our skin look ageless.”

“Ginny never wears it.”

“I’m sure that’s because some Wizarding product does the same thing this old Muggle one does.” Willow shrugged, stepping back. “As for me, I grew up with plain ole makeup. It’s a hard habit to break.”

She waddled to the bathroom to wash her hands and reassess her own appearance. Willow’s eyes landed in the mirror, taking in her long red hair which Hermione had graciously stylized with one of Lavender Brown’s fashion spells. She wasn’t keen on utilizing anything Lavender had accomplished since their feud over Ron, but one couldn’t deny her skills with hair and accessories couldn’t be outmatched. And since Lavender’s only claim to fame, aside from having once been Ron’s snogging partner, was her beauty line, Hermione had concluded the best revenge was living well and rubbing her nose in her own success.

Everything else looked decent. She wore a burgundy maternity dress-shirt and a black suit jacket. Her pants were pressed and neat-looking, and her own makeup looked flawless. Around her neck was a pendant that had belonged to Joyce Summers. It was one of the birthday gifts Buffy had sent over, along with updates of the home life, pictures of the kids, and a promise to visit sometime.

The baby kicked and a rush of pain shivered down her spine. Willow pressed a hand to her stomach and practiced her breathing exercises.

_Any day, now._

It had been foolish to travel, she supposed.

“Willow?”

She raised her eyes to the mirror. “Yes?”

“You’ve got a visitor.”

“Shit.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Not a good visitor?”

“I should have expected this.”

“Yeah,” said Josh as he strode purposefully into the bathroom. “You should have. What the hell were you thinking, Willow?”

Harry looked confused and a bit worried. She saw his wand-hand twitch.

“I was thinking that I shouldn’t have eaten that last peanut butter sandwich,” she responded coolly. “I get indigestion so easily, and you know how that can be mistaken for labor pains.”

Josh’s eyes raked down her body. “Good God, you’re as big as a house.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Thanks for that.”

“Sam has to know.”

Willow shrugged and pushed herself off the counter. “Not by me, he doesn’t,” she said. “I tried, Josh. I tried time and time again to tell him. I even showed up on his doorstep, remember?”

“You didn’t let me know—”

“What? That it was important?”

“Ah,” said Harry, his eyes bright with realization. “So this is the dumb git.”

Josh whirled around. “Who invited you to this conversation?”

“Who invited you to mess with people’s lives?”

“I work for the government. That’s kinda what we do.”

“Well, I think you’ve done enough damage, haven’t you?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Josh, even you aren’t that dense.” She gestured. “Harry Potter, meet Josh Lyman. Josh Lyman, Harry Potter.”

“Oh,” said Josh.

“And as for the purpose to your visit, I’ve already said my piece,” Willow continued. “I tried to tell Sam. I tried to tell him many, many times. You kept intervening.”

“You didn’t tell me you were pregnant!”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t about to tell you before I told Sam.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, and I work in professional politics.”

“So that’s less ridiculous than getting your permission to talk to an adult about matters that don’t concern you?” Willow shook her head. “Beforehand, I was just a witch who was bad for the political career of the future governor. That was bad. Now that I’m a pregnant witch about to pop said governor’s lovechild, it’s suddenly okay to talk to him?”

Josh blinked dumbly. “Yes.”

“Wow.”

Harry sniggered. “Are all Americans this thick?”

Willow smiled but didn’t answer. Her eyes remained on Josh. “I’m not telling Sam,” she said. “You made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t allowed in his life.”

“But you—”

“Even so, the moment to tell Sam was as soon as I found out. I tried that. It’s not now. I’m not going to become the bad guy who withheld knowledge of a pregnancy, and I’m not going to point fingers, either. We both know he’d cut you out if he found out you were the reason he didn’t know, and there’s no reason for him to lose you. I’m already out of his life.” Willow shrugged. “So Josh, if you want Sam to know, you’re going to have to be the one who tells him. This has been your game from the beginning, and I stopped playing months ago. If that’s all, I guess I’ll see you around.”

Then she was gone in a flurry of movement, reappearing in the adjoining room where Harry was actually staying with Ron and Hermione.

Hermione leapt off her seat. “Willow?”

“Don’t worry. All’s well. It was just easier to Apparate than waddle out.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, glancing to the door that connected the suites as Harry stepped through, unaccompanied. “Nothing at all.”

*~*~*

Faith wasn’t one to bother with courtesy when it didn’t make sense, therefore she didn’t hesitate before inviting herself into Rosalie’s room. She found the girl stretched out on her bed, studying a page from a book that looked familiar. The sight made her snicker.

“You’re actually doing your homework?”

Rosalie glanced up. “It’s an interesting read.”

“Good way to fall asleep if you ask me.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, well, I grew up with Wesley shoving books in my face. This just seems like another one.”

That seemed fair. Faith inclined her head.

“What’s up, then?” Rosalie asked, flipping the book shut.

“I gotta know something.”

“Okay.”

“You have a problem with me boffing Nick, don’t you?”

Rosalie’s eyes widened comically, her cheeks immediately singeing red. “I…uhhh, no. No, of course. Not. Why—urrr—why would you—”

“Because I just got a thirty minute lecture about discretion from a man who once fucked me sideways in a hotel elevator.”

“Ew.”

Faith shrugged. “Sex is a part of life, kiddo. For me and Nick, it takes the edge off.”

“You don’t have to mention it with my dad. That’s all kinds of wrong.”

The elder slayer smirked. “You got the hots for him, don’t you?”

Rosalie looked horrified. “My dad? Gross, Faith!”

“Nick.”

“Nick what?”

“You got the hots for the young watcher.” Faith shrugged. “Don’t surprise me, any. He’s young and cute and has that accent. Not to mention you two work all up close and personal like.”

“That’s so not anything.”

“It’s okay, Ro. I won’t squeal to anyone.”

“I don’t have the hots for anyone. Not Hunter or…or whatever.” She looked away. “And I didn’t mean to get you two in trouble or anything. I just…I’m not sure what this is.”

“What what is?”

“This. Any of it. Hunter spends most of his time with me and the rest of his time with you. You and I haven’t done anything remotely cool since the construction downstairs. I don’t know whether or not you’re staying for him or for me—”

Faith’s hands came up. “Whoa, nelly. Not staying for Nick. I’m here for you.”

“Then why aren’t we—”

“Going out? Patrols?”

Rosalie nodded.

“’Cause that ain’t my place. This isn’t exactly easy for me, either, kid. I don’t know where to start or where to draw the line.” Faith sighed shakily. “But I don’t want things to be all choked between us, you know?”

“Yeah.”

“And I don’t want anyone thinking Nick and I are anything more than fuck buddies.” She shuddered. “Wes hinted we were something else.”

“And you’re not.”

“You and I have talked about this a time or two, if memory serves.”

Rosalie’s nose wrinkled. “I guess I just don’t get how you can have sex with someone and not…feel.”

“Spoken like a true virgin.”

“Hey!”

Faith shrugged again. “Fact of the matter is, I don’t trust anyone enough to feel anything like that. Nick doesn’t, either, and if he does it wouldn’t be me. He’s always real tightlipped, but something happened to him. Something like what happened to me. I’m not gonna go all Dr. Phil on you or anything, but that’s just the way it is.”

“What happened to him?”

“Fuck if I know. Again, he doesn’t trust me enough to do the whole show and tell thing, which is just fine, because that street goes both ways.” Faith inclined her head. “He might trust you like that, though. One day.”

Rosalie pursed her lips.

“In the meantime,” Faith continued, “you wanna break curfew?”

The girl’s eyes brightened with excitement. “What do you have in mind?”

“Demon bar downtown. We’ll shake our groove things and, if we’re lucky, some nasty’ll be in there and we can go to town.”

“You think so?”

Faith’s eyes brightened. “Only one way to find out…”

*~*~*

The speech was finished. Gone off without a hitch. Gibbs had only said damn twice, but Josh was convinced that it only made it come off a bit more natural for the man. Now, was his turn. Josh knew that he needed to tell Sam and there was no point putting it off. Willow was in town and Sam needed his chance to come with the terms that he was going to be a father.

He just hoped he would still have a best friend by the time the day was over.

“Great speech man!” He didn’t recognize the guy patting his shoulder. “Looks like we finally got ourselves a candidate!”

“Yeah,” he said absently as his eyes skimmed over the crowd. Sam was still here and likely so was Willow. He had to get to the man before she left again for the UK. He’d already messed up things too much to go back now.

Gibbs was beside him now. “That was a damn good piece Seaborn wrote. That damn section in the middle ran a damn bit too long, but I think we can trim it down. Not sure how I liked the ending, but the last damn line was solid. Think we have a damn good chance to pull it all off.”

Josh wasn’t listening. He’d just spotted Sam. Now was his chance. Throwing caution to the wind, he went forward.

*~*~*

“C’mon!” Rosalie pouted as Faith took the beer from her hands. “Like one drink is gonna kill me!”

“No, but it’ll kill _me_ if you pops finds out I’ve been slipping you moonshine under the table.”

“That guy bought it for me!” Rosalie turned to smile and wave at the man standing over by the bar.

“That guy is not even a human, babe.”

The young slayer shrugged. “Not the point.”

“And, he is a total dog. Lesson of the night: only flirt with the hotties. Save the nasties for the uglies looking to score.”

Rosalie arched a brow. “I’m not looking for sex.”

“Good, ‘cause I already scoped this joint and there isn’t a hottie in the room. Though, we might get lucky if those two demons in the corner lose their poker match.”

“And I can’t have a drink?”

Faith shook her head, taking a gulp of the free beer and nodding over to the buyer. “Nope. But I’ll give you dibs on which one you wanna take out.”

“Deal.”

*~*~*

Zack knew what had to be done, but that didn’t make walking back to the apartment building any easier. He had hoped that when they went to Spike and Buffy’s place, he’d be able to crash and avoid seeing Kelly until morning. Unfortunately, she was sitting there on the couch next to the lady of the house.

“Spike?” Buffy asked, looking cautiously between the two men.

“No harm, no foul,” Spike assured as he walked straight to the kitchen and rummaged around the cabinets. Seconds later he reappeared with a bottle of Jack Daniels. Popping the top, he took a sizable shot, before passing the bottle to Zack. “Don’t bogart the liquor, mate. We’re gonna have to share with the ladies at some point.”

“Right,” Zack said taking a long drink.

“Spike?” Buffy asked again.

“’Bout time we got this family meeting started.” He looked to his wife. “You’ve done a nice job leading the group, love. But now it’s time for Daddy to come home and put things in order.”

*~*~*

“Josh?” Sam was following him, but had no idea where he was going. “You said we needed to talk.”

“Yeah. I just want to do it somewhere quiet. How about outside?”

“That fine.” Sam sighed. “Was it the speech? I thought it went well. Even with Gibbs adding his favorite adjective in a couple of times.”

“Speech?” Josh’s strides slowed down for a moment before picking back up again. “No, no…the speech was fine. Did he say damn?”

“Did you even listen to it?”

“Not really.”

“What’s wrong, Josh? And why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

*~*~*

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hermione asked.

“I’m fine.” Willow wished she could convince herself of that. Truthfully, the witch was pretty nervous. The contractions were coming on more frequently now. All the books told her not to panic. Pre-labor begins weeks before the baby is born. But hadn’t she been having them for weeks now? Willow couldn’t remember. She knew she was a ticking time-bomb of babyness. She just didn’t want to diffuse here. “I’m just going to head out and get a little fresh air.”

“I can go with you,” Hermione suggested.

“Nah.” She was hopeful she was coming off more confident that she felt. “When Ron and Harry get done talking to that delegate from Zimbabwe, let them know that I went off. I’ll call you if I need anything. Like a snack.”

“Okay.” Hermione gave a smile and a nod. “But you will let me know if you’re not okay?”

“Totally.” As Willow walked to the door, she hoped Hermione had never been one to study Occlumency.

*~*~*

“Josh, this ridiculous,” Sam said once they made their way outside. “It may be springtime, but it’s freezing out here. Can we go inside? Or at least let me get a jacket?”

Josh was pacing back and forth, his eyes seemed to be looking for any signs of movement around them.

“This is bad, isn’t it?”

“Let’s just say, I hope you’ll want to talk to me in a decade or two.”

Sam let out an uneasy sigh. “What did you do? You haven’t cheated on Donna have you?”

“No!” the man balked.

“Okay, well…you haven’t turned into a closet Republican have you?”

“Sam, get serious.”

The brunette man threw up his hands in exasperation. “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re looking like a man who’s on the run.” He paused. “Oh, shit. You haven’t killed someone have you?”

“I wish.”

*~*~*

“What do you mean?” Kelly asked.

“I mean we’ve been playing this game of charades for a little too long,” Spike said as he took another swig of Jack and passed the bottle to Buffy. “We haven’t been acting human and we sure as fuck haven’t been acting like vampires.”

“So…you’re taking charge?” Everyone heard the doubt in Buffy’s voice.

“And about bloody time.”

“What exactly does that mean?” Kelly asked again.

“For starters, we’re out with the old. This song and dance isn’t working. I needed a bit to suss it out, but I think I’ve got us a plan. At least for starters.”

“And this plan begins how?” Zack asked.

“With me. Being the leader. Leading.”

“Really?” Buffy arched a brow. “Because you haven’t wanted to be in charge of anything. As in at all.”

“Well, love, that was before I had my epiphany. Now I have. And I realized that we’ve been an Order without a leader.”

“Like a rebel without a cause?” Kelly blinked. “Because I still don’t know what you mean.”

Zack grabbed the bottle from Buffy and handed it to Kelly. “Here, I think you need a drink.”

*~*~*

“That’s fucking bullshit!” Faith bellowed as she kicked the closed door.

“Has that ever happened before?”

“Getting kicked out of a bar? Yeah, but not for _that_.”

“So, I guess what those two were doing was considered legal?”

“If by legal you mean disgusting, then, yeah.”

“And we got kicked out because…?”

“Because whatever the fuck that was happened to _like_ having her fingers chewed off.”

“Maybe they grow back?”

“Maybe this is the lamest bar ever.”

Rosalie was quiet for a moment. “Does this mean we have to go home now?”

“Ah, hell no! This just means the night’s getting started!”

*~*~*

Hunter flopped on his bed. Spending all his free time with Faith left him exhausted to do much else. He liked it that way. He didn’t have a social life to speak of and wasn’t planning on developing one now that he was in L.A. No, he preferred a little sex to break up the monotony of pouring over the same books he’d been reading since a young boy.

He wasn’t sure if it was the flippant comment he’d said to Faith in the basement more the lecture he’d received a couple hours ago. Whichever, it had caused a small part of his mind to drift back into the past. Back to places he didn’t want to go.

Wright had really told them off about letting Rosalie catch them. More than his words, Hunter was affected by the look of disappointment on Cordelia’s face as she had glared at Faith and himself through the whole lecture. Like a concerned mother grounding her naughty children.

Had he really traumatized the girl? Surely, by sixteen, she’d saw a dirty movie or taken a late-night venture on the internet. That couldn’t have been her first visualization of the mating process. Not like she was a small child. Nearly the age of William. Having to hide in the dark. Forced to watch or close his eyes. Night after night, until…

No, this wasn’t going to do. With a sound of disgust, he pulled himself out of bed. If Faith was out and about, he didn’t have anything to distract him. Since she said she was taking Rosalie out on a secret mission, he figured they were at the clubs. Pulling on his clothes, he decided that he might as well join them.

Maybe he needed a bloody social life after all.

He lifted up his glass in toast. “Sounds like a plan.”


	4. Chapter 4

Harry was caught off guard as he turned around to face the blonde haired woman. He and Ron had just finished their conversation with the head of African Magical Law Enforcement. “Hi!” The woman said with a smile and a wave.

“Uhhh…Hello.” He cast a perplexed look to Ron, who merely shrugged and eyed a passing tray of hors d'oeuvres.

“My name is Donna. Donna Moss. I’m one of Willow’s good friends back here in the States.”

“Oh, well,” Harry looked around for sight of the witch in question. “Nice to meet you.”

The woman leaned uncomfortably close to him now. Her voice dropped to a whisper so low, he was forced to tilt his head downward in order to hear. “I know who you are,” she said.

“Ehhh…is that a threat?”

“No!” she balked, pulling away in wide-eyed horror. “I’m your biggest fan! Well, not really…I didn’t dress up for the book releases. But I did go get it that weekend. So, I’m not actually you’re _biggest_ fan, but I am a fan.” She turned to Ron and giggled. “Oh my God…you’re… _you!_ ”

Ron turned to Harry in bemusement. “Is this how all Americans act or is this one bloody mental?”

“Not sure,” Harry muttered. Luckily, the woman in question was too busy bombarding the approaching Hermione with giggles and compliments to even notice.

*~*~*

“Josh?”

“Yes.”

“Will you just tell me what the hell it is already?”

“Yeah.” The curly haired man stopped his pacing and faced his best friend straight on. Nervously, he ran his hands through his hair. “I just…you’re not going to take this well.”

“I kinda got that from the long drawn out way you’ve approached it and the number of times you’ve told me I wasn’t going to take it well.”

“Yeah, I was hoping that it would prepare you for it.”

“Well, since murder is a better alternative to whatever it is…not sure about that now.”

“Good point.” Josh sighed. “So you know that thing about Willow and the being pregnant?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I know and I’m pretty sure I told you about it last night.”

“You did! And I want you to remember that I didn’t know she was pregnant. At all. Not at all until you told me last night.”

“Josh?”

“So…I guess the first thing you should know is that she isn’t with James Ersnape.”

“She told you this?”

“Well, she told me that James Ersnape is actually Harry Potter.”

“Are you telling me she’s having an affair with Harry Potter?”

“Do you think that Harry Potter would have an affair with Willow?”

“I’m not sure of anything at this point.”

“Well, no. She isn’t having an affair with Harry Potter.”

“Okay, so he isn’t the father. So what?”

“So, Willow didn’t fly back home and jump the first broomstick in the parking lot, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I doubt Willow has done much…broomstick riding…since she left.”

Sam’s eyes grew wide in perceived understanding. “Oh,” he said at long last.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh.”

“So you get it?”

“Yeah, she hooked up with one of her friends in L.A.”

Josh slapped his forehead. “You seriously run a government? An entire state’s government?”

“What? What are you trying to tell me then?”

“I’m trying to tell you that she was trying to talk to you for weeks after you two split!”

“And what does that have to do with her being pregnant?” As soon as the question hit the air, both men knew the answer. Sam’s eyebrows hit his hairline and his mouth gaped open in complete shock.

Neither man had noticed that the woman and baby in question had just stepped out into the night. 

*~*~*

Spike handed the bottle of Jack to Buffy, biting back the urge to make a face. The meeting had gone nowhere quick, and he was determined not to make this any more painful than it need be. It seemed so clear to him—everything did. The need to move forward, push on beyond the same old miserable song and dance they’d let play this long.

“All right,” he said slowly. “I’m gonna go over it again, Kel. Just so you know what I bloody mean.”

He wasn’t sure whether or not that was the drink talking. He didn’t feel sloshed and he didn’t feel sober. The fence was planted squarely beneath his feet.

Buffy smiled encouragingly. “We’re all listening.”

“We’re leavin’,” Spike said. “Three days max.”

That was something new. Zack sat up with interest. “We’re leaving?”

“Neutral territory.” He nodded. “Somewhere we haven’t been before. This is a group thing, see. The lot of us need to suss out just what the bloody fuck we’re doing before we do anymore.”

“I’d like to know what the bloody fuck we’re doing in this meeting,” Kelly said, crossing her arms.

“The kids are staying behind.”

At that, both Zack and Kelly’s jaws went slack, their eyes about bugging out of their heads. “What the hell!” Kelly snapped.

“We’re leaving the kids?” Zack demanded.

“They’ll stay with their grandmum,” Spike confirmed with a nod. “This isn’t permanent now—”

“Damn skippy it isn’t permanent,” Kelly asserted, burping. “How can you expect me to leave the kids behind?”

Buffy wet her lips. Spike could see plainly she knew where he was coming from, but just as plainly knew that she wouldn’t say anything unless she felt the situation was spiraling out of his control.

“The kids aren’t a part of our future,” Spike said softly.

“The hell they aren’t!”

He held up a hand. “Talking long term, all right? Our existence as vampires doesn’t involve them. We keep workin’ in factors we can’t consider. We’re not about civility or what all. If the three of you aren’t keen on accepting me as the leader, then there’s the door. We’ve done this everyone else’s way an’ it’s all failed miserably. Not anymore. This about Kelly understanding Zack wasn’t Zack before. It’s about Buffy understanding the difference between human families and ours. It’s about me accepting that as the head of the Order, I gotta make judgments I might not like to make. This is about Zack understanding that even if I am his best mate, my word’s gonna pull more weight around here. It’s about all of that, an’ sorry, but the kids don’t bloody weigh in.”

Kelly’s eyes blazed but she didn’t rebuttal. Instead, her shoulders fell slack.

“Part of the trouble here is none of you have lived as vampires,” Spike said, his eyes lingering on his mate. “Even you, Buffy.”

“I know.”

Zack raised his hand. “Uhhh…”

“No, mate, not even you.”

“I gotta disagree with you there, Master.”

Spike’s lips quirked but he didn’t allow himself a smile. Instead, he cocked a brow and shook his head. “So you go dizzy with power for a few weeks and suddenly you think you know about monstrosity?”

“Well…yeah.”

Kelly made a noise of obvious disdain, and Buffy rubbed her arms, her expression troubled. Yet when she met Spike’s eyes, he knew she understood what he was trying to say.

“Vamps aren’t meant to be caged,” he said.

“I kinda like my cage,” Zack retorted.

“You did horrible things,” Spike allotted. “Really horrible things.”

“Yeah. I got a great idea. Let’s talk about _that_ at length.”

“We’ve been down this road before, mate. This isn’t like Angelus, where you had a good run for a century or two before having a soul stuffed up your ass. You went from one extreme to the other, and while no one here can understand it, I can bloody well appreciate it.” Spike inhaled sharply. “We’re not playing house anymore.”

Buffy smiled softly and raised her hand.

“What is it, love?”

“About time,” she said. “What took you so long?”

*~*~*

“Use your elbow!”

Her voice echoed and rebounded off the alley walls, then died upon reaching the flash of traffic at the other end.

“What?”

Faith rolled her eyes and threw a stake in the air. Luckily, it landed in Rosalie’s hand and not embedded in her eye. They might have had some trouble otherwise…at least, more so than they did already.

“Your elbow, kid!” she yelled.

Rosalie’s eyes widened as though just then realizing what the word “elbow” meant, and she quickly put the elder slayer’s advice to good use. Jamming the aforementioned elbow into the vamp’s gut, she found herself free of Mr. Ugly’s surprisingly potent hold and able to thrust the stake through his heart before he regained composure.

Faith relaxed, her shoulders dropping. “How is it that you’ve been doing this since you were pint-sized and you don’t know how to use your elbow?”

Rosalie frowned and dusted herself off. “I was managing just fine.”

“If by ‘just fine’ you mean ‘about to be vamp chow.’”

“You could’ve helped, you know.”

Faith shrugged. “I already know how to kill vamps, kid. Seems it’s you who needs the practice.”

“I’ve been killing vamps for years now.”

“Aw, sad. How bad at it you are, I mean. All that practice oughta amounted to something.”

Rosalie scowled and likely would have said something nasty had she not noticed the twinkle in Faith’s eye and gleamed on that fun was being made at her expense. “You don’t wanna mess with me,” she said, shoulders straightening. “My dad’ll have your ass handed to you faster than you can say, ‘Spank me, Hunter, one more time.’”

Faith smirked. “Kinky.”

Rosalie made a face. “Could you please _not_ use that word when discussing my dad?”

“You’re the one who keeps bringing him up.”

“Now, now, ladies,” said someone from behind—too familiar a voice for either one of them to act startled. Within seconds, Hunter had stepped into the light, looking ragged but amused. “There’s no need to bicker.”

Faith snorted. “Been there long, peeper?”

“Long enough.”

Rosalie crossed her arms. “What are you doing out?”

“Well, after the considerable chewing of my ass I received from your father, I decided to hit the town and see where it led me.”

She looked chastened at that. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” she said. “Either one of you. It was just a—”

Hunter held up a hand, and though the alleyway was quite dark, the reddening of his cheeks couldn’t be missed. “No, it’s all right.”

Faith shrugged apathetically. “We should’ve been more careful.”

“Yes.”

“And not fuck where anyone could walk in.”

“I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but yes,” Hunter agreed, unable to meet Rosalie’s gaze.

Faith’s eyes narrowed. “How would you put it? ‘Clutch each other in the tender throes of our sweet, oh so sweet lovemaking?’”

Hunter made a face.

The elder slayer snickered. “This is the guy who had Wes believin’ we’re more than fuck buddies.”

“I honestly don’t see the harm in that,” Hunter replied grumpily.

“Obviously.”

“Well, then, let’s have at it, shall we?” He sent a sharp glare Faith’s way. “Obviously, we’re not going to hear the end of it until you have said your piece. Why, exactly, is the thought of us together so repulsive?”

“This comin’ from the guy who doesn’t like me.”

Rosalie squeaked awkwardly. “Is this what happens when sex is thrown in?”

“I never said I don’t like you. For God’s sake, I might as well be in a bloody relationship for as many times you take what I say the wrong way.” Hunter threw his hands in the air. “Which is it, Faith?”

“I don’t go soft for nobody,” she said.

“Then why do you care so bloody much what I think?”

“’Cause you and the kid are pretty much the only friends I got. Don’t think I would’ve stuck around if it hadn’t been for the both of you riding my ass.” Faith huffed and turned away. “No, Nick. I guess I just hoped you and I were more cordial than all that.”

Hunter rolled his eyes. “Women,” he huffed. “You take a bloody microscope to everything I do or say, whether or not I’m being serious.”

Faith turned up her nose. “Whatever.”

“You are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.”

“It’s a part of my charm.”

Hunter waved a hand dismissively and turned his attention to Rosalie. “Would you like to hit the cemetery once before we head back?”

“We’re heading back?”

“I think it’s best, don’t you?”

Rosalie looked to Faith, who merely shrugged. Then, with a scowl, the young girl turned back to her watcher. “We were having fun, you know.”

“I know, I know,” Hunter replied surly. “Sorry to be the adult.”

*~*~*

He knew.

Willow held her breath, her hand pressed against her belly. Every inch of her body ached, her chest had tightened, shards of pain ringing through her muscles in ways she had never known she could hurt before. It was coming—she felt it coming. Everything she’d ever read about childbirth alluded to this sort of pain.

Sam’s eyes were on her. So were Josh’s.

The baby was coming and now he knew.

She’d imagined this moment a thousand different times, a million ways. Even after she’d abandoned the notion of telling Sam about the child, she couldn’t help but daydream little scenarios in which he came to know of his own accord. Some were disastrous, especially when her mood swings were particularly depressing. Others, though, depicted a Disney-esque reunion in which Sam professed his love and begged for her hand in marriage before carting her off into the proverbial sunset.

None of them were like this. Sam standing outside the function on the arm of another woman, gaping at her just seconds after her water broke, Josh standing dumbfounded at his side.

_Oh God._

“Oh God,” Willow gasped, tears stinging her eyes. “Oh shit, oh shit.”

“Willow?” Sam staggered forward, the shock in his eyes slowly melting into a cold betrayal she could barely stand. “It’s mine? The child is mine?”

“Sam, please—”

“No. No _please!_ How could you? How could you keep this from me?”

Willow sniffled miserably, unable to keep herself from crying. She looked to Josh, who seemed helpless and pitiful. She couldn’t stand it. Not like this.

Looking back to Sam, she said, “We went separate ways.” She hated the words, hated the way she sounded. “You said—”

“I would think _pregnancy_ would be one of those things you’d bother to tell me!”

At that, she glanced back to Josh. “I can see why.”

“Willow—” Josh started, but she waved him off.

“Save it. I don’t need this right now.” Willow slammed her eyes shut. “Goodbye, Sam.”

Then the world around her dissolved into nothing. When she opened her eyes again, she was in her hotel room.

And the baby was on its way.

*~*~*

Rosalie and Hunter walked alone side-by-side. Faith had split the second her eyes landed on a bustling nightclub, stating she didn’t do bedtimes and curfews and wanted to get her dance on before heading back to the Hyperion. The way things had gone, no one bothered questioning her.

Rosalie wasn’t sure how to bring it up, so she made a good ploy at dancing around the issue. However, the way Faith had gotten all touchy, not to mention the slights she’d made all night prior to Hunter’s arrival, couldn’t help but stir her curiosity. It didn’t make sense, especially for a woman who claimed to have no ties to anything or anyone.

“Hunter?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think…Faith…”

Hunter tossed her a quick glance. “What?”

“Do you think she has feelings for you?”

He laughed shortly. “We’ve covered this before.”

“Yeah, but that was a few months ago and things have changed. You guys have been banging regularly for a year now.”

“Not quite.”

She shrugged. “Close enough.”

“No, Rosalie. She doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I know. Trust me.”

Rosalie shook her head. “You’re being a little closed-minded.”

“No, I’m being rational.”

“Hunter, she wigged out whenever you said jokingly that you might not like her personally.”

“That has nothing to do with me.”

Rosalie gestured broadly. “How can you know?”

“Because Faith is very insecure.”

She laughed loudly at that. “Now I know you’re crazy.”

Hunter sighed and shook his head. “No, I’m not. She doesn’t have a terrific view on herself and assumes everyone close to her is using her for something or another. She doesn’t trust that anyone can actually like her for who she is, because she doesn’t even like who she is…but she wants to, badly.”

Rosalie fell silent at that, frowning thoughtfully. After a moment, she swallowed and said, “How do you know?”

“We’re close, Faith and I. We understand each other.”

“You like who you are, though.”

Hunter shrugged. “Do any of us?”

“I do.”

“Like yourself or me?”

“You. I mean me. I mean yes.”

He snickered. “Yes? Yes to which part?”

“I like me and I like you and I like Faith.” Rosalie frowned. “Why doesn’t she like herself?”

“She killed a man.”

“Yeah,” Rosalie replied slowly. “A long time ago.”

“Unless you’ve killed someone, Rosalie, I don’t think you can understand. I don’t even understand.” Hunter sighed. “She’s grown a lot since we met. When I first knew her, she was right out of prison. She didn’t talk to anyone, but she helped wherever she could. Moreover, she’s never felt valuable as a slayer. She was always in Buffy’s shadow. She doesn’t let anyone get close for that reason. So whenever someone like me makes a stupid remark, she takes it out of context.”

Rosalie pursed her lips.

“She doesn’t want me, Rosalie,” Hunter said firmly. “Not like that. We’re not together. We know each other too well to ever be together.”

“But you’ll keep fucking?”

Hunter’s cheeks reddened and he avoided her eyes. “Ah, well…I am short on company.”

“You have me.”

He broke into a hysteric coughing fit. Rosalie, clearly not meaning it the way it sounded, blushed brilliantly, stammered a few excuses, and jogged up ahead of him.

It took about fifteen minutes for Hunter to catch up.

*~*~*

“Oh no.”

“What?”

Harry had his wand withdrawn, which was never good. He, Ron, and Hermione had managed to escape the insane blonde woman inside long enough to determine Willow was no longer anywhere on the premises. In a hurry to find her, they piled out onto the street only to find the man all had identified as her child’s father yelling indiscriminately at the other bloke from earlier tonight, Josh Lyman.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good,” Harry determined.

“Are wands really needed?” Hermione huffed.

“Dunno. If some blighter tried to keep me from our kids, I’d want to bloody murder them,” Ron said lowly. Hermione flashed him a brilliant smile at that, as though every affirmation that he loved his children was further proof she’d made a good decision in choosing a partner.

“All right,” Hermione replied. “But do try to be careful.”

Harry advanced slowly, wand at the ready. Words became clearer with every step, separating from the flying, blind rage and solidifying into actual words.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BE REASONABLE?! SHE LIED TO ME, JOSH!”

“Sam, if you’ll just calm down—”

“SHE DIDN’T TELL ME I WAS A FATHER! WHAT KIND OF PERSON DOES THAT? WHAT KIND—”

“Oh no,” Ron said loudly.

“What?” Harry demanded, only to be blinded by the flash of a report’s camera.

_“Confundus!”_ Hermione squeaked, her wand jerking.

The spell succeeded and failed. Succeeded insofar as distracting the reporter, failed insofar as attracting the attention of Sam, whose warpath quickly diverged from screaming at Josh to the three infamous wizards.

“YOU!” he screamed.

“Who, us?” Ron repeated.

“Where is she?” Sam demanded savagely. “That child is mine as much as hers.”

“She knows that,” Hermione responded, her wand still aimed.

“TELL ME WHERE SHE IS, DAMMIT! SHE CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!”

“Do this to you?” Harry yelled. “She’s done nothing to you, mate!”

“Why you—”

“ _Impedimenta!”_ Hermione screamed; Sam flew back almost comically, his hands having been outreached as though he felt it possible to strangle Harry to death. “We’re getting nowhere with this.”

“What did you do?” Josh demanded, jogging up. “You just attacked the Governor of California!”

“Why’d you ask if you were going to answer?” Ron asked.

“You told him this was Willow’s fault?” Harry demanded.

“Wha…” Sam said woozily. “Willow…”

“You want to know why she kept it from you, mate?” Harry said heatedly, gesturing wildly to Josh. “It was his brilliant idea.”

“He kept her from seeing you,” Ron agreed. “Willow tried contacting you repeatedly over the fellytone—”

“Telephone,” Hermione corrected.

“She even went to see you at your flat,” Harry said. “This bloke kept her from telling you. She gave up, thinking you’d moved on.”

“So don’t go blaming Willow,” Ron said. “She’s been alone in all this.”

“Except for us,” Harry added.

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Except for us. And she needs us now.”

Therefore, linking hands, the three wizards Disapparited, leaving Sam on the ground staring at his friend in betrayal, and Donna, who had rushed outside, doing much the same.

*~*~*

“Rosalie!” Hunter panted as he finally caught up. The only reason he stood a chance was that she had finally came to a stop, standing at the entrance of her favorite cemetery near the Hyperion. While he prided himself on his physical fitness, he was nowhere near the speed and stamina of a slayer.

“You said we could do a walk through before home.” She kept her back to him, undoubtedly still fighting her embarrassment.

“What?” he huffed before the thought fully register with his brain. “Oh, yeah. Yeah.”

She stepped through the entrance gates. The cemetery was always eerily unlocked. Likely due to the fact that the guardsmen seemed weary of the high mortality rates in the neighborhood after dark. I didn’t mean it like that,” she said after a minute of walking the path between the first few burial plots.

“I know,” he said gently. The double meaning had first set him off in a fit of coughs, but during the jog he began thinking about the comment as a whole. “But did you mean it?”

“Not like that.”

He stopped walking. “But you meant it. That you didn’t mind being around me?”

At last, she turned to face him. “And you said Faith was insecure?”

His cheeks flushed. “This isn’t about Faith, now. From the start, you’ve been acting like any time with me aside from patrol was a burden to your precious life.”

She rolled her eyes. “Just when you go on and on about some obscure demon you read in a book that hasn’t been sighted in fifty years. Or when you’re drilling me about homework or some lame text you want me to read about a boring dead demon hunter. But when you’re…you…then you act all normal and laid back and make up excuses why staying up to watch Star Wars is all important to my life and stuff.”

“Oh.” He was at a loss for words. The idea that she actually liked him and didn’t seem his as an obligation to her calling stirred something inside him. A small piece of his soul twitched in excitement.

“You know? Like tonight…you’ve been kinda sorta fun to hang with.” She gave a noncommittal shrug. “Besides, it’s not like I have much of a social life. Everyone at school just thinks I’m a freak. The counselor thinks I’m on drugs because I fall asleep during my classes and all the students treat me like I’m a leper. I’m lucky if I get a place to sit at lunch and usually get assigned the special ed kids to do all my group work with.”

“Really?” He asked her about homework all the time, but had never thought to ask about her social life.

“Notice the phone calls and sleepovers I have? None. Dad didn’t like me hanging out away from home when I was little. Eventually, they all got the hint and just left me alone. Completely.”

“Oh, Rosalie.”

She shook her head. “Not saying this for a sympathy card. Just saying that we might as well stick together. Outside of you and Faith, it’s all family in there. Mom and Dad. Kelly. Even Wes and Gunn have been like my two big brothers slash uncles. It’s kinda cool that I can say I got a couple friends.”

“I know what you mean.” And he did. He’d grown secretly attached to the Hyperion crowd. And as much as he resented it, he did like the idea of not being completely alone. There was no harm in making a friend or two every now and again.

“So yeah…you know, we could go and do something every now and again. I haven’t been to a movie since Nikki and Fred.”

“I know you must miss them.”

She gave another shrug. “They were my friends. Nikki was my aunt and Fred was like that, too. So yeah…I miss them.” She turned away and looked at a neighboring tombstone. “But, you know…”

“If you need to talk about it, I understand.” Hunter didn’t really want to talk about it, but it seemed the proper thing to do.

“It’s just made things so weird. My life changed so fast all at once. I guess I’m still trying to process it. I became a slayer, a big sister, lost Nikki, lost Fred and then found an uncle who lost his soul and…”

He knew what she was thinking. He wondered if her and Cordelia had talked about the night Zack had sexually assaulted her. She turned back to face him. “But having somebody to hang with is a nice idea. Dontcha think?”

He stared at her. She was a piece of amazement in his eyes. Here she had experienced a lifetime of pain, tragedy and change all in the span of days, yet she was able to stand and talk about it not a year later. “You are truly a remarkable woman, Rosalie Wright.”

“What?” she blushed and he saw a shy grin come to her lips.

“Seriously, the world doesn’t really know how good they have it with you the Chosen One.”

Her blush grew stronger as she turned her head away and looked to the ground. “Nick.”

He didn’t know if it was the look on her face or the soft way she had used his first name, but something stirred inside him. It felt like a small crack had occurred on the stone barrier he’d erected around his heart so many years ago. He was taken aback at how beautiful she was to him in that moment. Not as a fighter or a slayer. As a woman.

She looked back up at him, still rosy-cheeked and smiling. His eyes dropped to her lips and he was suddenly filled with a desire to kiss her. To take her precious mouth and claim it as his own. Adrenaline flowed through his veins as she took a step toward him. Unconsciously, he moved toward her. His thoughts were not being guided by logic anymore. He wanted to taste her more than he had ever wanted anything in his life. He kept his gaze focused on his target: the luscious pink lips now inches from his own.

“Get down,” she whispered, taking her arms and grabbing his shoulders.

“What?” His only thought in life was tasting her kiss.

“Down!” She spoke with more volume, but he was confused. Did she want to do it in a cemetery?

Then, before his mind could process anything else, she was throwing him to the ground.

*~*~*

“You did what?” Donna asked in horror.

Josh sighed and looked back and forth between his best friend and his soul mate. “Look, it’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Really,” snarled Sam. “Because to me it seems you decided to control my life without an ounce of permission.”

Donna shook her head, looking shocked. “You didn’t let her tell him she was pregnant?”

He looked imploringly to her. “I didn’t know she was pregnant, you know? I wouldn’t have tried to keep that from him.”

Sam gave a humorless life. “But when she was just a woman that you knew I cared about, it was all well and good to play Keep Away. Right?”

“I just figured it was for the best if you two didn’t see any more of each other.”

“Josh,” Donna’s eyes had begun to fill with tears. “How could you?”

“They were nothing to each other! They’d only known each other a few days and were acting like they were two steps away from walking down the aisle. I figured if I could just get them to clear their heads, they’d move on.”

“I _told_ you how hard this was for me,” Sam snapped. “I told you that I was having issues with the fact that things between me and Willow had ended so abruptly. Now I find out that you’re the only reason. _She_ didn’t stop caring about me. _You_ did.”

“I did not!” Josh threw his hands up in the air. “The whole reason I did this was because I care about you.”

“You cared about the fucking campaign, Josh. You cared about the win. You didn’t care as long as there were no messy distractions to keep you away from your prize. What I wanted didn’t mean a damn thing.”

Josh looked like he’d just been slapped in the face. “I did it for you! You were the one who said that he wanted to make a difference. You were the one that said being governor would give you a stronger voice. You were the one who asked me to make it happen!”

Donna’s voice cut through the air. “How long did she try?”

He looked at her. The hurt and pain in her eyes made him lose his breath. Anger was an emotion he was used to dealing with. Disappointment was another. “Well, she called a lot. I had her number blocked from of your phones.”

“What?” they asked in unison.

“That’s why she stopped calling me,” Donna gasped. “I just thought she was too busy at school to return my calls.

Josh looked away. “Then, she came to Sam’s. I was there and answered the door.”

There was a dark look in Sam’s eyes. “When?”

“Well, it was the night I had Ainsley come over for the first time. She was ready to barge in, but saw Ainsley standing there and left.”

“You.” Sam took a ominous step toward him. “You planted Ainsley just to keep Willow away. You never gave a fuck about helping me move on.”

“No. No, that’s not true. Well, maybe a little. But I did think Ainsley would be good for you. And I thought it had worked until you told me about her boyfriend and the fact you two never even thought about a hook up.”

Tears were now streaming down Donna’s cheeks. “You knew she was pregnant?”

“No!” Josh grabbed Donna’s hand, but she jerked away from his touch and took a shaky step backward. “I didn’t know until last night when Sam told me. That’s when I realized what I had done. So I tracked down Willow’s hotel and went there this morning. I told her we needed to tell Sam and she said she wasn’t going to. She told me that it was my fault and that she had gave up trying. So…” he gestured emphatically. “That’s what I did! See, I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I told you!”

“How fucking kind of you, Josh,” Sam sneered. “Let’s give thanks that Josh Lyman let me participate in my own damn life for once.”

“Sam,” Josh said desperately. “Sam, you got to understand—”

“The only think I understand is that I have a horrible taste in friends. At least I have control this time on who it is I block out of my life.” With that, Sam turned and walked away.

“Donna?” Josh felt like he might get sick.

“Where is she?”

“Donna?”

“Where is she staying?”

“The Willard, suite 444. But will you please just listen to me?”

“I trusted you. I believed in you. I thought you were one of the good guys.”

“Donna, I am.”

“I don’t know what you are anymore.”

“Donna.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how I can love somebody who’s used me like this. Who would destroy his best friend’s life all for an election? I just…I don’t know, Josh.” With that, Donna turned and walked off toward Sam. All she was sure of at the moment was their need to find Willow.

*~*~*

“So that settles it then,” Spike said.

“Settles what?” Kelly slurred as she grabbed the bottle of Jack and down the remainder in one giant gulp.

Zack raised his brows. Kelly was a notorious light-weight and he was pretty sure she’d passed well beyond her previous drinking adventures. “Settles the fact that we’re going to go away and work on things.” He looked to Spike. “Where are we going?”

“I haven’t decided that as much, yet,” Spike admitted. “But I’ll let you know when to have the bags packed.”

Zack was skeptical. He raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Reminder to the fact that I’m a bit more traditional in the moment. Don’t exactly have my vamp-proof sun blocker on me at the moment.”

The platinum vampire gave a shrug. “Been ‘round over a century without a little jewel on my finger. Shouldn’t be much of a thing. Wrap you up in blanket and stash you in the truck, if we have to.”

“Not exactly down with Captain Forehead out wearing my bling. I wouldn’t mind getting it back, is what I was going for.”

Buffy nodded her head. “Once all this is dealt with, I’m sure we can probably track down Angel and get it back.”

“Right,” Spike said in agreement. “But first things first,” he gestured to Kelly. “That bird needs to be put to bed before she drinks anymore of my liquor.”

Kelly’s response was to give the head of the Order a raspberry.

“Yeah,” Zack affirmed, taking Kelly by the arm and pulling her off the sofa. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Getting Kelly across the hall to their apartment was more of a challenge than Zack had expected. She fought him all the way and bit his shoulder when he tried to carry her across the threshold. Once inside, with the door secure, he tried to get her to go quietly to her room. “I don’t wanna!” she whined.

“Kelly, the kids are asleep. Just go to your room and be quiet.” He grabbed her by the waist as she turned and ran back toward the door.

She started giggling and gave up her struggle against him. Zack gave a sigh of relief and loosened his grip. With a laugh, she spun around and wrapped her arms around him. “Why don’t you come and join me then? I’ll go to my room, but don’t promise I’ll keep quiet.”

He gulped as her hands began amorously wandering around his back. “Kelly?” She grabbed his butt with both her hands and pushed his crotch against her.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to.” She leaned over and kissed his neck, nibbling at his fang mark. “It’s been so long, Zack.”

“No,” he said shaking his head, trying to shake the desire and confusion from his head. Fuck, she smelled so good.

“Haven’t you been wishing it was my hand jacking you off all those lonely nights?”

“Kel,” he whimpered as her fangs sank teasingly into his skin.

“Haven’t you missed being inside me, Zack? Haven’t you wanted to make love to me for so long?” She snaked a hand between them and grabbed his unwilling erection. “I’ve wished it. I’ve touched myself and wished it was your fingers on me.”

“Kelly,” she gasped, forcing her away.

“Inside me, Zack. Making me come. Making you come.”

“No, Kelly. Not tonight. Not like this. You aren’t ready, yet.”

“You are,” she said grabbing his jean-clad erection.

“No, I’m not.” Zack said pulling her hand away. “So let’s just get you to bed and hope you’re too drunk to remember this in the morning.”

“You don’t want me anymore?”

Zack sighed. “I want you more than anything in the world. But we both know that if I took advantage of you tonight, there would be no point in worrying about our marriage. I’d be dust and you’d be raising our kids as a murderer.”

“Huh?”

He took advantage of her confusion and picked her up in his arms. She laughed and hugged his neck as he carried her to her room. For a blissful second, everything felt right in the world. Then, with a little reluctance, he laid her down on the bed.

“Zack?”

“I’m going to go to my room now. And lock my door. I figure you’ll be throwing up in an hour or two, so I’ll check on you then.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“Don’t go.”

With all the determination he could focus into his head, he turned and walked out the room. He couldn’t look back when he heard her call.

*~*~*

“I need a drink,” Faith declared as she turned and walked away.

The guy she had been grinding with on the dance floor looked momentarily disappointed before snapping back. “Fucking tease!”

“Oh, if you only knew,” she replied as she made her way over to the bar. Finding an opening, she squeezed her way between the patrons and made it up to the counter. “Gimme a Crown and Coke. Double the Crown and half the Coke.”

“Make that two,” a familiar voice beside her said to the bartender.

She had to admit she was surprised to see Wesley sitting there, toying with an empty shot glass. “What are you doing out of the Bat Cave so late at night? Trouble in Gotham City to report?”

He gave her a smirk. “My liquor cabinet was empty and I needed a drink.”

Faith gave a nod of understanding. It made sense to her that booze was the only thing keeping him from running across town and slashing Zack’s throat. “Well, it’s never as fun if you have to do it by yourself.” She reached out and grabbed the glass the moment the bartender set on the bar. “So, you looking to have another lonely night?”

He took the glass from her hand and took a sip. “Wouldn’t be here then, now would I?”

“Well, why don’t we throw back a couple more of these and then head out and see where the night takes us?”

He lifted up his glass in toast. “Sounds like a plan.”


	5. Chapter 5

Rosalie had dusted the first vampire with relative ease. A few kicks and punches and the newbie was distracted enough not to notice the stake through the heart until her had already started to crumble. The second one was stronger and was putting up more of a fight.

“Don’t worry about your boyfriend, baby,” the vamp said with a wicked sneer. “They’ll have him finished up in no time.”

Hunter was currently batting two vampires of his own, though from what Rosalie could gather, she was now dealing with the leader of the pack.

“Mmmm…” the vampire said looking her up and down. “You smell so fucking good. I don’t usually play with my food, but I think I’m gonna have to make an exception.”

“You wish,” she spat as she side kicked him in the gut.

Hunter had just dusted one of his targets. She saw the dust fly up and momentarily losy sight of her watcher. Her vamp made another run toward her, but she deflected him once more.

“I don’t know who you are, bitch, but I have to admit all this foreplay is getting me hard.”

“Ughh!” she spat in disgust. “You can call it what you want as long as you know you’re about to be dust.”

Hunter shouted a curse into the night as the vampire he was fighting knocked him to ground. Rosalie started toward him, knowing she was at more of an advantage in combat than he was.

“Not so fast,” her vampire said, grabbing her by the neck and wrestling her to the ground.

It took only a second to get her there. Before she could react he had her pinned to the grassy earth with a hand around her throat and legs and torso between her things. Somehow, she had dropped her stake in the struggle and it was just out of reach. “Baby want a ride?” he asked.

“No.” Her voice came out much more terrified than she intended.

“I always love it when they struggle. Makes you wiggle.” He laughed and increased his grip on her throat when she fought to get up. “I love fucking them until they bleed. And baby, I’m gonna make you bleed.”

She was paralyzed with fear. She saw the fangs dangling so close to her face. She felt the pressure between her legs and he rubbed himself up against her. With his free hand, she felt the cloth of her t-shirt give way as he ripped it off. She knew she should be fighting. She knew she should be clawing at his eyes or breaking his hand, but she was too scared to anything.

Last year came back to her and suddenly the nameless vampire on top of her was her uncle. The fangs were Zack’s and he was ripping off her clothes so that he could take his fingers and ram them inside her body. Violating her and breaking her forever.

“C’mon, baby,” the vampire chided. “You take all the fun out of it if you just lie there.”

“Stop,” she begged.

She closed her eyes as she heard the monster laughing at her. The lack of oxygen was making her lose consciousness, but she was sure that Hunter had just called out her name. “Bloody motherfucker!” he growled with an anger she’d never heard him express.

Then, the pressure was gone. She could breathe again and there was no longer a body pressed against her thighs. She felt the dust sprinkle all over her and she fought to not inhale it as she gasped for air.

“Rosalie?” he gasped as he bent down and pulled her of her feet. Looking at him, her mind focused on the gash on his cheek and the blood slowly oozing down his face. Then, she felt his hands on her. His hands and eyes were suddenly examining ever part of her body. On her head, checking for injuries on her scalp, on her neck and arms checking for broken bones or cuts and then on her stomach in search of any broken ribs.

The feeling of his skin on her bare middle, reminded her that she was topless. “Oh God,” she cried as she shakily bent down to pick up the remains of her shredded shirt. “Oh fucking god!”

“Don’t worry,” he said, taking the tattered piece of fabric she had been trying to get over her bra-covered breasts. Throwing it down to the ground, he reached for the hem of his own shirt and pulled it over his head. She heard his groan quietly and saw there was a purple bruise and another cut on his chest and side. Then, she saw no more as he put the shirt over her head and began forcing her head through the neck hole.

“I…I panicked,” she apologized when she saw his face again. “I got distracted and then I was down before I could react.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

She shook her head. “Not me. That doesn’t happen with me.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, you need to tell me that I didn’t focus. I dropped my weapon and I let the enemy get the advantage. You yell at me about this all the time.”

“Not now.”

“But…” She felt the tears stinging her eyes. She had been so close to death, but it was having to relieve that night with Zack that really had scared her. She was more afraid of being violated again than she was of dying.

“Let’s just get home and call it a night.”

“Okay,” she said with a shaky nod.

They walked in silence back to the Hyperion. Hunter kept a firm hold on her hand as they went and she didn’t bother pulling away. She needed the extra security at the moment. It wasn’t until they made it back to the Hyperion and saw the front foyer lights on that either of them spoke.

“Well, this isn’t good,” Hunter declared.

“What?”

“It’s three o’clock in the ruddy morning and the lights are on.”

“Maybe they forgot to turn them off.”

“Or maybe your pap is waiting on the other side of that door with a crossbow in hand.”

Rosalie shook her head. “Faith and I made up my bed with pillows before I left. Just looks like I was already asleep.”

“Maybe,” he said unconvincingly. “We should probably go around to the back just to be on the safe side.”

“Yeah,” she agreed and began to follow him as they tiptoed around to the back. “Maybe you could just hoist me up on your shoulders and I can make a leap for a window ledge on the second floor?”

“And what about me?”

“You’re not the one who can get grounded.”

“I’m the one who can get evicted.”

“But it’s no big deal for you to be out all hours of the night.”

“Without a shirt?”

Rosalie shrugged. “Tell him…tell him that you and Faith were playing strip poker.”

He snickered at her. “Like she would let me off with just my shirt?”

“How about I get up to the second floor and go get a rope from downstairs. Then, I can pull you up.”

“If you were able to go downstairs, then you’d be able to just open the door and let me in.”

“Right.” She bit her lips. Honestly, kids snuck in and out of their parent’s houses all the time. It shouldn’t be that hard.

“Tell him you got mugged. You’re all beat up and stuff.”

“Actually, that might work.”

“Great!” she perked up. “So, I’ll jump up and sneak into the second floor and you can go around front and walk in and tell my dad that you got mugged.”

“Or,” a voice said from behind them. When they whirled around her father came out of the shadows holding a loaded crossbow aimed directly as Hunter’s chest. “You guys could tell me what the fuck you’re doing out at three in the fucking morning and why my daughter is wearing your shirt.”

Not all kids had Zack Wright to contend with.

*~*~*

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Willow had said little else since landing in their hotel room floor, her hands clasped around her bulging belly.

“What do we do?”

“Don’t just stand there, you stupid sod. Go grab my bag!”

Harry blinked. Hermione had called him many things in the past, but “sod” was one word he’d never heard on her lips. Hermione likewise didn’t lose her head in a sticky situation, therefore her panic had his own nerves on the edge of combusting.

Thankfully, Ron was there to provide a level head, which would have surprised the lot of them had they been paying attention. “ _Accio_ bag!”

“Where now?” Harry asked eagerly.

“GW,” Hermione said, kneeling beside Willow. “It’s all right. We’re getting you to the hospital.”

“GW?” Ron echoed.

“It’s the only hospital in town that has a Magical Care Unit.”

“How d’you know all this?”

Hermione aimed a glare at her husband, silently berating him for not predicting she would have taken all this into consideration before booking a flight. “There’s a special Apparation pad,” she said. “For emergencies.”

“This qualifies, right?” Ron whispered loudly.

“Yes!” Willow and Hermione hissed in unison.

Ron nodded. “Thought so.”

Hermione hooked her arms under Willow’s shoulders. “GW Magical Care Unit,” she said again. “Don’t splinch yourselves. I won’t have time to worry about you.”

“Right then,” Ron squeaked.

It was useless. Hermione and disappeared the next instant, Willow with her.

*~*~*

“I can explain.”

Wright crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Yeah,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’d fucking hope so.”

“Dad—”

“Rosalie, unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘I was kidnapped’, you can look forward to about three months of being grounded.”

“Three months?!” Rosalie shouted. “Well, fine, I was kidnapped.”

“Yeah. Don’t the two of you look cozy?” Wright shook his head, taking a heavy step forward. “I let you near her,” he growled at Hunter. “I let you close. I let you get closer than any man’s gotten. And this is how you repay me?”

“Zack—”

“That’s Mr. Motherfucking Wright to you.”

Hunter sighed. “Well, Mr. Motherfucking Wright, as I said, there is an explanation.”

“Is that cheek? You better not be giving me cheek.”

“No, sir. Especially not with that—” Hunter waved at the crossbow. “—aimed at my chest.”

“Your _naked_ chest.”

“Yes. My naked chest.”

Rosalie frowned. “When did you get the new crossbow?”

“Just made the finishing touches,” Wright said lovingly, stroking the wooden finish with his free hand. “When I heard you two whispering like two people who don’t wanna be caught. ‘Course, after I saw your bed was empty, I knew I was in for a long night. Just didn’t know _how_ long.”

“Dad, it’s not Nick’s fault.”

“I’m sure he managed to convince you it was your idea. Maybe three months is going easy on you.”

“What about patrols?” Rosalie demanded.

“I’m sure Faith can handle it.”

“Mr. Motherfucking Wright, with all due respect, Rosalie needs to focus on honing her skills—”

Wright fingered the trigger and an arrow went soaring into the frame beside Hunter’s head. “Talk about her skills, and I’ll cut your nuts off.”

“I thought we were supposed to be explaining!” Hunter protested, his hands flying to protect his crotch.

“That’s Dad’s way of saying ‘listen to me blow steam,’” Rosalie said. At the fierce look she received in turn, she raised her hands and said, “What? I’m already in trouble.”

“You wanna add a couple months to your sentence?” Wright retorted.

“Look, I—”

“It was Faith.”

Wright’s eyes narrowed and Rosalie’s widened; they both turned to Hunter in surprise.

“What?” the young watcher demanded. “I’m not going to get into bloody trouble twice in twenty-four hours because of something she did.”

“Faith took your shirt off and put it on Rosalie?” Wright asked wryly.

“Faith was in a mood after you read us the sodding riot act,” Hunter said. His hands came up just as quickly. “Which was justified.”

“Damn straight it was.”

“She asked Rosalie if she wanted to go out.”

“Nick!” Rosalie whispered furiously.

“What?” Hunter retorted. “Have I said anything untrue?”

“I don’t want to blame this on Faith.”

“And you assume she’d be so bloody noble to take the heat? Sorry to bust your rose-colored bubble, but she’s more interested in looking out for herself.”

“Douche,” Rosalie huffed, crossing her arms.

“Faith took you out?” Wright asked. “That’s true?”

“Ummm…”

*~*~*

People were staring. Some were snapping pictures. Donna just hoped none of them recognized Sam or got a good shot of his face. Since his back was to them, there was every chance they had no idea who he was, and though it weighed on her mind, her primary focus was with getting on the other side of the door…even if she’d been certain for the past seven and a half minutes that no one was on the other side.

“Willow!” Sam screamed, anxious fists pounding the door. “Willow! Let me in!”

“Sam—”

“Willow!”

“Sam!”

“I didn’t know, Willow! He hadn’t told me! _LET ME IN, DAMMIT!”_

“Umm, sir?”

Donna squeaked and whirled around, though she doubted Sam heard anything. Behind them stood a small army of hotel security, and a mousy spokesman with a Willard nametag labeled, “Jerry.”

“Hi,” Donna said, plastering on a smile. “We’re in a bit of a pickle—”

_“WILLLLOWWW!”_

“—my friend, here, just found out his, erm, sister is pregnant.” The security officers exchanged a series of skeptical glances. Donna hesitated. “Whatever. We just need to get into that room.”

“That’s a private suite.”

She frowned. “Aren’t all suites private?”

Jerry cleared his throat. “Well, see—”

“Will a hundred do it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Or two?” She shrugged her purse off her shoulder and began frantically thumbing through it. “I think I might actually have three in my wallet.”

Jerry’s eyes popped. “Are you bribing me?”

“Depends,” Donna said nervously. “Is it working?”

“How much do you have?”

Donna made a face and thumbed through her cash. “Three hundred twenty-seven dollars and eighty-eight cents.”

“Sold.”

*~*~*

For the past half hour, she kept sending furtive glances to the door. Whether or not she knew he was watching was a different story, but when it became clear she wasn’t going to share what had her attention, Spike decided to broach the subject. Buffy often got bugs in her ear or a strange notion in her head and refused to let the matter go until it had been addressed.

“Buffy?”

“Mmm?” she replied distractedly.

“Love, what are you doin’?”

Buffy blinked and tore her eyes away from the door. “What?”

“You’ve been staring at the door since they left.”

“What? I have not.”

Spike smiled. “Yeah, you have. Something on your mind, sweetheart?”

“No. I…well, I guess I’m a little worried. About Kelly.”

“Kelly?”

“You saw how drunk she got, right? Kelly doesn’t get drunk. Not like that.”

“And you’re worried?” Spike smirked. “I’d hope I wouldn’t have to tell you that vamps can’t die of alcohol poisoning.”

Buffy made a face. “Of course not! I just mean—”

“Even if we could, she didn’t drink near enough, leas’ from what I’ve seen.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What you’ve seen?”

Spike shrugged a shoulder. “Been to a kegger or two. Back in the pre-chip days, that is. Drunk frat gits are bloody easy to corner.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Prob’ly for the best.”

“What I mean is, people lose their inhibitions when they drink. As in a lot.” Buffy worried a lip between her teeth. “And a lightweight like Kelly…”

“What’s she gonna do, love? Dance on a coffee table? Mix her whites and her colors? Kelly doesn’t get wild.”

“But with Zack…”

When she didn’t continue, Spike’s brows perked. “But with Zack what?”

“I dunno. She might mess things up.”

“You mean more than they are already?”

“It could happen!”

“You worry for nothing.”

“Do not,” she pouted.

“Yeah.” Spike grinned and neared her, wrapping his hand around her waist and pressing his lips to her brow. “You do.”

“Something could happen,” she protested. “Maybe I should check on them?”

“Maybe you should come to bed.”

“Oh?” Buffy replied. “What happens in bed?”

Spike ran his tongue over his teeth. “Come with me, kitten, an’ you’ll find out.”

*~*~*

Her throat split apart with the weight of her scream.

“Oh, Willow…”

The redhead’s eyes blinked open, her body coated with a thick layer of sweat. “Her…Hermione…”

“Yes?”

“I…I need…I need Donna.”

Her brow furrowed. “Donna?”

“From earlier…I need Donna. Get Donna.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. I’ll get Donna.”

*~*~*

This time of night, voices carried, even in Los Angeles. Faith suppressed a smirk, lifting Wesley’s weight from her shoulder to readjust it before continuing. “Sounds like Super Slayer and her watcher got caught sneaking in.”

Wesley hissed. “Ah…pity.”

“You okay?”

“Fine. Just fine.”

“Really? ‘Cause I’ve seen fourth graders walk off a sprained ankle with more dignity.” She snickered and shook her head. “Such a baby, Wes.”

“I am not a _baby._ It just…really hurts.”

“Somebody have a boo boo?”

“Quiet, woman,” Wesley snapped, his eyes blazing with both devilish humor and enough flirtation to make a girl think things. “When Zack starts on these tirades, it’s easy for him to wheel in drifters and make everything their fault.”

“Yeah, but first you gotta give a shit, right?”

“I suppose it helps.”

Faith shrugged. “Well, then, we got nothing to lose.”

As they approached, voices developed distinction and words separated themselves from the gargle of noise. Loudly, Zack Wright screamed, “Well, either she did or she didn’t! This isn’t a gray area.”

“It’s not that simple!” Rosalie protested.

“Oh yes it is,” Hunter retorted.

Faith plastered on a smile and forced Wesley to hobble a bit quicker, ignoring his pained grunts. “Ya’ll might wanna drop it a notch or twelve. The neighborhood’s tryin’ to sleep.”

All eyes turned to her, some darker than others.

“Sorry, Boss,” Faith said to Wright, nodding. “Don’t mean to interrupt your scoldin’.”

Wright crossed his arms, his brows perking. “My daughter and her sicko watcher are just now getting in.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting fleetingly to Rosalie. As much fun as it was watching Nick squirm in his seat, she really had no reason to get the girl in trouble. Rosalie was at that age where she wanted to impress those she looked up to, even if it meant rebelling in some small way against her parents and the establishment. It also didn’t help that she had discovered she had powers beyond comprehension and the accompanying ache to dole out punishment to all uglies that bumped her night. There was no reason for the kid to take additional heat…not now, at least. She’d need to keep some chips to cash in later when her job kept her up until morning and school became a priority of the past.

“Yeah, yeah,” Faith said, waving with her free hand. “That’s my fault.”

“Uh huh,” Wright agreed. “That’s what they were saying.”

She blinked. “What?”

Rosalie shook her head. “I wasn’t—”

“Fuck that shit!” Faith snapped. “It was Nick. It was all fucking Nick.”

Hunter’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“He came in and started preaching about slayerly duty and shit. I just went out to keep them company.” Faith shrugged again, bouncing Wesley as though to indicate his presence. “Got distracted when Watcher Senior decided to come out for the fun.”

“That is a _lie!”_ Hunter cried. “Faith’s the one. She—”

“What a fucking tattle,” Faith drawled in disgust.

“Could you please stop that?” Wesley asked, tapping his wounded leg furiously. “It still hurts!”

“Ah, quit being a baby.”

Rosalie looked to the leg in question. “What happened to you?”

“Probably taking Faith for a spin. No wonder he was so bloody curious earlier,” Hunter snapped.

Faith smirked. “Someone’s gotta help me hit the notes you miss.”

“I do just fine, thanks!”

“Yeah,” Wright drawled. “This is exactly the sort of conversation that’s gonna help you win me over.”

Hunter gestured to Faith. “She started it.”

“Oh, man-up, Nicky.”

“Own-up, Faith.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, got me there. I was about to save your ass, too. You gotta go pointing fingers.”

“In the right direction!”

“Friends don’t squeal,” she retorted.

“I was not about to get into _more_ trouble because of you!”

“Yeah. Downstairs was _my_ idea. I was the one who stripped _you_ down and threw your legs in the air. Let’s blame _everything_ on me.” Faith shook her head and turned her eyes back to Wright. “Sure. I jumped Nick downstairs and had my wicked way with him. I then maliciously dragged your daughter off to get wasted at a demon bar. Nick came and saved her from my evil clutches, and I got so fed up with his white-hat-assary that I dragged Wes, here, outta bed. He fucked me senseless, got himself wounded, and so I came home. That’s _exactly_ how it happened. Oh! I forgot one thing. Nick moaned _your_ daughter’s name when he blew his load into my snatch.”

Wright’s jaw fell. So did Hunter’s. Rosalie’s cheeks could likely be seen from space.

Faith shrugged. “Come on, Wes. Let’s get that ankle on ice.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

No one tried to stop her as she passed.

*~*~*

“Where would they go?”

Sam had been asking that question for a full ten minutes now, though Donna doubted he was aware of it, or much of anything. He kept pacing, kept ruffling his hair, loosening his necktie, looking out the window as though Willow would fly up on a broomstick with a baby in her arms.

“A hospital?” Donna volunteered for the eleventh time. “I’d guess?”

“A real one or one of hers?”

“I think hers are real, Sam. Just not…umm…”

“Yes?”

The air cracked behind her and made her jump so far she nearly hit the ceiling. Or it felt like it. Donna whirled around, her wide eyes landing on Hermione Granger-Weasley.

“Donna?” Hermione demanded, panting. “You’re Donna? Willow’s Donna?”

“Willow? Where’s Willow? What have you done with her?” Sam shouted.

“Yeah,” Donna replied shakily. “Yes, I mean. I’m Donna, and this is—”

“No time!”

The next thing Donna knew, Hermione’s arms were around her, and the world fell away in a dizzying spiral.

Sam was going to blow his lid.

*~*~*

Donna had no idea where she was, but knew the ground was firm as she fell to the floor the moment she and Hermione Apparated. “Sorry,” the witch said quickly, bending over to scoop up the disoriented blonde woman.

“Where are we?”

“Willow was asking for you. Apparently, you two are pretty close.”

Donna would have smiled if the circumstances were any brighter. “Is she okay?”

“The healers were attempting to give her an elixir to calm her nerves, but she refused until she could talk to you.”

Donna nodded and followed Hermione as she took off down a corridor. She may not be magical, but she certainly knew when she was being stared at. “Uhh…I guess you guys don’t have too many Muggles in here?”

Hermione paused long enough to look around at the witches and wizards looking on in interest. “No,” she admitted. “Not very often do we venture out of the wizarding world. Willow is quite an exception.”

“Aren’t you a Muggle?”

“Muggle-born,” Hermione clarified.

“Oh.”

They reached a door and Hermione came to an abrupt halt. The witch turned and gave the blonde a hesitant smile. “Willow speaks quite fondly of you. If we survive this, hopefully we can get a chance to get to know one another. “

“Survive?”

There was a loud shrill from the other side of the door. A loud bang occurred as something hit the wall and sounds of glass shattering filled their ears. “Yes, survive,” Hermione said with no hint of humor in her voice.

“I don’t get it,” Donna said aghast. “Is magical child birth worse than normal?”

“No,” the witch said with a shake of her head as she tentatively reached for the doorknob. “According to the healers, she seems to be in perfect condition. The pregnancy has been normal in every regard. Willow, it would seem, is—” There was another scream, followed by a slap and Ron crying out in pain.

“A pansy?”

“Yes,” Hermione said pushing the door open. “I think that’s the best word for it.”

*~*~*

The night had an eerie calm until Faith slammed the door behind her. Then, several things happened at once. Hunter threw his hands up in the air and began yelling for Wright to listen, Wright threw his crossbow to the ground and began yelling at Rosalie to go inside, and Rosalie threw her hands up and began yelling for her mom.

“Zack—” Hunter was backing away as quickly as possible.

“You motherfucking little shit!” he growled.

“She just said that so you would hurt me!”

“Well, she’s gonna get her fucking wish.”

Rosalie shouted at the top of her lungs. “Mom! Dad’s about to kill someone!”

“Get in the house, Rosalie.” Wright’s voice was low and dangerous. His eyes weren’t leaving Hunter’s panicked gaze.

“Dad, I-I really don’t think he said that.” She paused and looked to Hunter. “Did you?”

Hunter gave a weary sigh. “No, but thanks for the vote of resounding confidence.” 

“Don’t talk to her,” Wright warned.

“Zack, do you honestly think I sneaked her out to take advantage of her?”

Cordelia burst out the back door. She looked from Rosalie, to Zack, to Hunter, to Zack, To Rosalie and back to Hunter. “Why are you wearing Hunter’s shirt?”

“Why do you think?” Wright spat.

The woman folded her arms and looked at the scene. “My guess is that the two of them went out with Faith and went by the cemetery on the way home. Since you said the vamps were out in droves tonight, they likely got in a scuffle. Nick’s bleeding and your knuckles are clean, so my guess is that they bit off more than they can chew and she lost her shirt in the fight. Nick, the injured gentleman, gave her his shirt and then tried to sneak her back home so she wouldn’t get in trouble at home.” She looked to Rosalie. “Stop me if I’m wrong.”

Wright gave a grunt. “Cordy, if that pile of shit was any bigger, you’d fall in it.”

*~*~*

Willow burst into tears and released her chokehold on Harry when Donna walked through the door. Ron gave his wife and former stalker a hug and made a quick getaway into the hallway. “Donna!” Willow cried. “Oh, god, Donna!”

Donna was by the witch’s side in an instant. “It’s going to be okay,” she said taking the redhead’s hand.

“I don’t think I can do it!”

“The doctors all say you’re doing fine.”

“I didn’t want a magical birth! Magical births don’t have epidermals. I want my fucking epidermal!”

Donna cast a hopeful glance at Hermione, who shook her head and moved to the other side of Willow’s bed. “I told you that they don’t have those kinds of Muggle medicine. We’re quite traditional in our birthing practices.”

“And I told you that was bullshit!” Willow whimpered when she saw Hermione flinch. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault.”

Hermione gave a weak smile of forgiveness. “I talked to one of the healers upon arrival. He conferred with a doctor who insisted that you had reached a point where they could no longer give you an epidermal.”

“What’s an epidermal?” Harry asked. It was obvious he was edging toward the door in pursuit of Ron. When the women ignored him, he decided the coast was clear and made his escape.

“So it shouldn’t be long?” Donna asked hopefully.

“No, the healers are just waiting on Willow to decide when to deliver.”

Donna looked at Hermione and blinked. “How?”

Willow sighed. “There’s a potion we drink and it…hurries the baby up.”

Donna was confused. “What? It makes you push the baby out?”

Hermione giggled. “Pretty much.”

“How quickly?”

Hermione wrinkled her brow. “I’m pretty certain mine were within fifteen minutes. James kept Ginny for a whole hour. Extremely rare.” The witch shook her head in disgust. “She holds it over his head all the time.”

Donna laughed. “An hour? My mom told me she was in labor for two and a half days!” Ignoring the look of horror on Hermione’s face, she looked at Willow. “So why aren’t you drinking the magic juice?”

The redhead blushed. Luckily, she was so flushed that no one could possibly tell. “Well, it’s silly.”

“It’s scary becoming a mother,” Hermione said gently.

Donna nodded in agreement. “I doubt that I could ever stand in your shoes.”

Willow smiled, tears coming to her eyes. “I just…I knew it was silly…I just kinda wanted…I hoped…you see… I had always imagined…uhh…I know that it was a long shot…and I have no idea why I would even…uhh…he never…and I never…and he’s got a girlfriend…and I…so silly…and I had hoped…he hates me…and I was just… “

“Sam?” Donna asked. “You’re talking about Sam, right?”

The mother-to-be burst into tears. “He hates me!”

“No, he doesn’t.” Donna took the witch’s hand, and tried to calm her down. “He doesn’t hate you at all. The whole time we were looking for you after we left…” She seemed unable to say Josh’s name. “Sam was so worried that you wouldn’t forgive him for going off at you. He didn’t mean it. He was just confused and upset and took it out on you by mistake.”

“He looked for me?”

Donna had to laugh. “Yeah, he’s still looking for you. We made it to the Willard before Hermione came and got me.”

Willow looked to the witch in question. She didn’t get a chance to speak before the curly haired witch responded. “Fine, I’ll locate him and bring him here. Please, is there anyone else before I go back out? Do you need a special snack or something?”

Willow tried to smile. “Hermione, you’re the best.”

“Oh, I know.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Mom!” Rosalie shouted. “He’s going to kill him!”

Cordelia sighed. “I can’t stop him when he gets murder in his eyes.”

Wright growled. “Will you two please get the fuck inside?”

“This is bloody ridiculous,” Hunter sighed coming to a halt and throwing his hands in the air. “Zack, we snuck out and made over to the cemetery on the way home. We got hit with a nasty nest and one got the best of Rosalie in the process.” He gave a quick look to the slayer in question. “It happens to the best. Nothing you can do but learn from it and not make the same move tomorrow. Yes, she’s wearing my shirt. No, we haven’t done anything inappropriate. I appreciate the idea that I snogged two girls in a day, but so far I haven’t brought my average up from one.”

Zack stepped up to the man. For a long moment he simply stood there, looking Hunter dead in the eyes. Everyone held their breath and hoped that Wright wasn’t about to do something violent. Then, the demon hunter’s right arm swung Hunter flew to the ground.

“Bloody hell!” Nick snapped as his hand went to his injured cheek.

“Are you happy now?” Cordelia calmly asked.

“This was only a test of the Zack Wright Emergency System. You know that it was only a test by the fact that in the event of a real emergency,” he gestured over to Hunter. “He’d be dead right now.”

“Does this mean we can go back to bed?”

He gave his wife a smile before turning to his daughter. “Oh, yeah. We have to go to bed because someone has to go to school in the morning.”

Rosalie looked a funny combination of pissed and horrified. “Seriously? It’s like four in the fucking morning.”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack. Besides, think it’s a good addition to your punishment.”

“I hate you all,” the slayer growled as she gave a scathing look to the other three before stomping off inside.

Wright turned back to Hunter. “And don’t think I’m not keeping my eye on you.”

“Any reason in particular?” he asked. “Or just your usual distrust of humanity?”

“Is that cheek?”

“Trust me, mate. My cheek is done for the night.”

“It better be.” Wright went over and extended a hand to the man. Hesitantly, Hunter accepted the offer and was helped to his feet.

“So, are we good?” Hunter asked as the elder man went to pick up his crossbow.

“Just don’t give me a reason to hurt you and we should be.”

“And what exactly constitutes a reason for violence?”

“Kinda like porn. I know it when I see it.”

“If it only was that easy, mate.”

“It is. For me.”

*~*~*

Kelly’s head was pounding as she rolled over. The first indication that she hadn’t had a nightmare was the awful taste of Jack Daniels in her mouth. The second was that she was completely dressed. “Oh God,” she hissed as she sat up in her bed. “Oh God,” she repeated as she hopped up and headed to the hallway. It wasn’t quite dawn, so the children were still asleep as she made the short journey to Zack’s room. Quietly, she tried the knob and found it locked. Just like he told her.

“Oh fuck!” she whispered. Why couldn’t she have been one of those people who didn’t remember what they did when they drank?

One good thing about being a vampire was the fact that there was never a need to lock doors. A burglar didn’t stand a chance of survival if they made their way into a vamp’s home. That made running across the hall to Spike and Buffy’s place a lot easier.

Walking inside her neighbors’ apartment, she knew it wasn’t the best of times. She could hear that they were definitely awake, but weren’t in the best situation for company. Kelly didn’t have time for being discreet. It wasn’t like she hadn’t caught her sire and Spike having sex before.

“Think we have a watcher,” Spike drawled the moment that Kelly walked in. It obviously didn’t turn him off, since he kept pounding Buffy into the mattress.

“I told you something was going to happen,” Buffy commented to the man on top of her.

“Yeah,” Kelly said impatiently. “I need a little attention here.”

Spike chuckled as he kept up his thrusts. “Kinda busy at the moment, sweets. Give Mum and Daddy a couple minutes and we’ll be all ears.”

“Spike,” Buffy groaned. “Let’s find out what she did.”

“You really care about that more than _this_?” His tempo increased.

Kelly rolled her eyes. “I came on to Zack. Hard.”

Buffy giggled. “Hard.”

“You bet I am,” Spike crooned.

“Guys!” Kelly stomped her foot. “I groped him!”

“Oh,” was all Buffy could retort as Spike’s hand slipped between the couple’s intertwined bodies.

“I begged him to sleep with me and…I bit him.”

Spike paused and cast a glimpse over his shoulder. “You pulled out all the stops?”

“Yes!” Kelly declared in exasperation.

“What did he do?” Spike narrowed his gaze at the brunette.

“Took me to my bed and then locked himself up in his room.”

“Hmmm,” he said as he turned back to his wife and continued his previous hip work.

Kelly wasn’t convinced. “Hmmm? That’s all you’re gonna give me?”

“Little busy for a hug, pet. ‘Sides, your hubby is coming over and he probably wouldn’t fancy catching you in bed with us.”

“What?” Buffy and Kelly said in unison.

“You two really need to learn to keep your senses running,” Spike stated. “Hello, Zangy.”

Zack walked in the room and gave Kelly a curious look. She turned her gaze quickly to the floor. For a few seconds the creaking of the bed was the only sound aside from slapping of skin. “I was coming to check on Kelly. I heard her leave and wanted to make sure she was sobered up.”

“I was just coming over to have a chat with Spike and Buffy,” Kelly said in mock innocence. “To talk a bit more about this leaving thing.”

“Really?” Zack sounded anything but convinced.

“If you guys want to watch the peepshow for a few more minutes, I’m sure Buffy’s gonna give you a hell of an orgasm,” Spike informed.

“Spike!” Buffy hissed.

“But, since my lady isn’t much into exhibition, I’m gonna have to ask you to take your sexual tension home.”

“Spike!” Zack and Kelly said at once.

“Mmm…not the one I want calling my name at the moment, but thanks.” He chuckled at his wife. She was going to stake him if he made her come now, but he was tempted just to punish the other two for interrupting. “You miss each other, but aren’t ready. You both know it. That’s part of why we’re leaving for a bit. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish fucking my wife.”

The Morris’ had just got to the hall when they heard Buffy’s screams. “Well,” Zack said awkwardly. “At least someone’s ending the night on a high note.”

Kelly tried to slam the door in his face.

*~*~*

Sam didn’t know what to do with himself. After the witch had snatched Donna away, he’d tried to run after them—realizing too late, of course, that they had disappeared with a crack. His feet had already been on course, and by the time it occurred to him to stop, he’d smacked headfirst into the surprisingly hard wall.

Everything went black after that.

When Sam managed to find his way back to consciousness, the witch that had snatched Donna was standing over him, wand drawn.

The groggy moment that accompanied most between sleep and alertness did not follow him. Instead, he immediately rolled to his feet and pointed an accusatory finger. “You!”

“My name is Hermione Granger-Weasley.”

“Where is she?”

“The hospital. The baby’s on the way.”

Sam swallowed hard, his vision going blurry. The baby. His baby. The child he’d created with the woman he…

And then he remembered Josh.

“No time to get sentimental,” Hermione said. “Time to go meet your child.”

*~*~*

First aid kits weren’t in short supply at the Hyperion, and within a day or so, most new residents became acquainted with their place in the medicine cabinet on every floor. Faith helped Wesley limp to his bed and shoved, rather than assisted, him to the mattress. She ignored his pained wail and instead marched to the bathroom, returning almost instantly with a familiar red and white box in hand.

“Anyone ever tell you your bedside manner could use some fine tuning?” Wesley asked as he scooted up on the bed.

“Anyone ever tell you to shut your pie hole?”

“Many, many people.”

“Yeah, well, didn’t seem to take, now did it?” Faith huffed furiously and yanked his wounded ankle into her lap. Again, she ignored his sharp gasp and didn’t even glance up when he asked her to slow down. Instead, she tore into the first aid kit and began rummaging through supplies.

“I get the impression that you’re angry,” Wesley said.

“Wow. You must’ve graduated at the top of your class at Fucking Duh Academy.” Faith ripped open a wet-wipe and began tending to the angry patch of skin covering the swollen muscle of his ankle. “It just eats at me, you know?”

“Hunter?”

“This whole fucking thing. I try to do them a solid, and they mop the floor with me. I take little sis out on the town ‘cause she’s makin’ with the doe eyes, and I get a fistful of angry dad for it. I ignore the little twerp and she thinks I don’t like her.” Faith huffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. When satisfied the area was clean, she cast aside the wet-wipe and tore off a length of gauze.

“Is that necessary?”

“It’s a bitch of a sprained ankle, Wes. ‘Course, if you wanna walk it off, there’s that.”

“No, that’s fine.” Wesley paused. “Is it…possible you’re overreacting?”

Faith froze and looked at him. “Not somethin’ to say to a bitch with a mean streak who happens to be playing nurse.”

“You’re supposed to be the adult,” he reasoned. “Telling her no when it’s not in her best interest is the ideal way to—”

“You know what you might wanna do right about now?”

“Shut up?”

She nodded.

Wesley seemed to consider it a moment, then waved it off, shaking his head. “All I’m saying, if you’ll let me,” he continued, seemingly shrinking against the headboard when her eyes narrowed. “Is fulfilling two roles with the girl isn’t going to do much more than confuse her. You’re here to help her, and yet you’re also the one she turns to when she wants to rebel.”

Faith rolled her eyes. “First of all, fuck you. Second of all, she’s a _teenager,_ you tard.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s called for.”

“You really think you’re gonna have any luck keeping her chained up? She wants out, she’ll find a way. Just seems to me if she’s gonna go out, better have someone lookin’ over her shoulder. Someone who’s been there and knows all the back-roads.” Faith shook her head, her hands beginning the familiar dance around Wesley’s ankle, wrapping him in stiff, however cheap material. “Third,” she continued, “The day I take Watcher advice from you is the day Wright signs Ro’s permission slip to get fucked sideways by Nick.”

Wesley lifted his chin. “Again, I don’t think that was called for.”

Faith snickered. “Far as I remember, your idea of Watchering me was chaining me up when I was not the most stable slayer in Council history.”

“If you’re going to lord mistakes years in the past over my head…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Faith sighed, her busy fingers at last falling still. She blinked and glanced up. “Everyone’s on edge, I think. Myself included. No one really knows what the fuck we’re doing, and yet we get up every morning and do it anyway.”

Wesley smiled softly. “That’s called living, Faith.”

“Don’t go all guru on me again. We’ve been down that road.”

“Yes, well, who knows?” He waited until she looked up and smiled again. “Third time’s the charm.”

For a moment, Faith looked touched. Softer, even reachable.

Then the bedroom door flew open, revealing an angry Hunter on the other side.

“Time to talk,” he said.

*~*~*

“We were kinda mean to them.”

Spike snorted, flopping happily into the empty bedspace beside his mate, cigarette wedged proudly between his lips. “She knew what she was getting in to,” he reasoned, inhaling deeply before passing the fag to his lady. “Honestly, love, you’d think they’d know better by now.”

Buffy shrugged and sucked faintly on the cigarette. She wasn’t a routine smoker, by any means, but immortality granted her a bit more freedom when it came to human diseases. She’d found, at Spike’s prodding, that a nicotine fix after sex hit all the right spots. “Yeah, but, imagine coming onto your significant other for the first time in a year and getting not only rejected, but completely—”

“There are too many variables for me to put myself in Kelly’s shoes, pet. For starters, you’ve never tried to kill me.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Well, except all those times you tried to kill me.”

Buffy stared at him a long moment, then shrugged and took another hit off the cigarette before passing it back to him. “Guess it doesn’t count if you saw it as foreplay.”

Spike grinned. “The best bloody kind. Point is we’ve meddled our fair share in their business. Why do you think they come knocking every time someone breaks a sodding glass over there?”

“That’s a little extreme.”

“Last Thursday night ring a bell?”

“Those were Kelly’s mom’s antique wine goblets,” the Slayer pointed out, but even she couldn’t help but wince at her illogical logic. “Okay. Fair point.”

“Think it’s about time they worked it out on their own. The little things like this, at least.” Spike shrugged. “Forever’s a long bloody time, sugar. We’ve only sampled a second of it in the long run, and look at how nice we’ve managed to fuck everything up. Come a time, Zangy and Kel might not be our very best of bestest chums. They don’t want us to play counselor, and we don’t wanna get landed with the role an’ have it define every sodding step we take from here on out.”

Buffy slumped, pouting. “That’s smart.”

“So naturally you’re upset.”

“I should’ve thought of that.”

Spike took a long drag of the cigarette before putting it out in the ashtray beside the bed. “That’s why I’m the brains of the operation.”

“You really think there might be a time when they…when we…?” Buffy inhaled sharply. She knew it was a logical observation, but even still, there were certain absolutes to which she clung; the fleeting nature of her friends and family among them, but she’d always taken comfort in the idea that Zack and Kelly would be in her life forever…in one way or another.

“Not bloody likely,” Spike said. “But then, life’s thrown me a surprise or two. Got me you, didn’t it?”

Buffy looked up and smiled, then released a playful shriek as he pounced on her.

“Again?” she asked, hooking her legs around his waist, rubbing herself wantonly against his prodding erection.

Spike nodded, sliding into her. “Again,” he sighed, nipping at her mouth. “And again. And again.”

*~*~*

For whatever reason, Hunter had dragged Faith back to his bedroom. It seemed like a good idea at the time—getting her away from Wesley so he could wring her neck without the burning eyes of witnesses. Granted, Hunter was accustomed to Faith speaking her mind and getting people in trouble just for the fun of it, but enough was more than enough. With Rosalie’s stricken face burning a hole through his brain, with Wright’s threats ringing in his ears, with his own shame drilling into his chest, he’d be fucked before he let Faith Lehane tear the world down around him.

“Are you trying to get me killed?”

Faith planted her hands on her hips and slowly turned around. “There are times when I wouldn’t mind it. You fucked me down there, you know?”

Hunter considered retorting there weren’t many places in Los Angeles he hadn’t fucked her, but thought the better of it. “Neither one of us can do a thing to help her if Wright’s not on board—if he looks over his goddamn shoulder every time one of us so much as looks at Rosalie, never mind tries to teach her these things to save her life. This isn’t like your Watcher, Faith. Or Buffy’s. Or Kendra’s. Or any other slayer born into this world, for that sodding matter. These rules are new, and we’re making them as we go. You took her out of here, so yes, I put the blame on your shoulders.”

“Great. Fucking great. Faith gets the axe.”

“After what you said down there, don’t think I’m not tempted.”

She shrugged, smirking. “Why? It’s the truth, ain’t it?”

“My God, will you please _grow the fuck up?_ ” Hunter’s chest heaved under the weight of his breaths. “You can’t have it your way _all_ the way. Rosalie isn’t you, Faith. She doesn’t have the experience or the strength, and she certainly hasn’t a clue what’s ahead of her. And she looks up to you so much it’s a wonder you can see her at all from the pedestal she put you on. And what do you do, hmm? You make jokes. You ignore her if it’s convenient, or take her out to get her pissed whenever you’re bored. Then you come home and jump my tired bones, making asides the whole time about how you’re not good enough and hoping I won’t see through them.” He wiped his hands. “You’re a little girl who keeps wanting to prove to the world how grown up she is, but can’t quite get the footwork down. So I step in, say something, and then you get hurt and take whatever slight remark I made and place it into a context no one in their right or wrong mind would ever fancy twisting it into.”

“You feel better without that chip in your shoulder?”

“You should know better than anyone how delicate a watcher/slayer relationship is,” Hunter hissed. “Why do you insist on first telling me and the world that we’re not doing anything but fucking, yet act like a scorned woman whenever she’s thrown into the mix?”

“Wow,” she said. “You’re so unbelievably full of yourself it’s leaking out a bit.”

“No, I’m not. Not this time.”

Faith glanced down and wrung her hands. “Look, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Wes. The kid’s gonna go out. She’s gonna break curfew. She’s gonna bend the rules. Aside from being under everyone’s magnifying glass all the fuckin’ time, she’s a teenager. Even prissy perfect girls like B stayed out after bedtime, and not always ‘cause she was on the hunt. Ro can handle herself, sure, but wouldn’t you rather her do all that while someone who’s been there before is keepin’ an eye on her?”

“Yes,” Hunter said. “Trouble is, I’m not sure you’re the right fit for the job.”

Her forehead wrinkled. “Fuck you.”

“I’m not saying your heart’s not in the right place,” he retorted, “but you can’t be the adult and the child at the same time. You can’t take her out to clubs, get snockered, and then claim to be reliable.”

Faith raised her hands. “And yet, it is responsible to come out with a mind to join the partying, then throw your friend under the bus? I fessed up to my shit, Nick. I can’t always be your scapegoat.”

Hunter opened his mouth to respond, then fell quiet when he realized he didn’t have a decent argument. “Oh, well,” he said, almost sheepishly. “That was a bad call on my part.”

“I forgive you.”

“You do?”

“No.”

He winced. “Didn’t think so.”

“I’m tired of being the fuck-up kid,” Faith said. “You really think I’d do something to put the girl at risk?”

“Not intentionally,” he said.

“Not at all. I know my body.”

“So do I.”

She paused, recognizing the look in his eyes. It often happened like this. They’d be in the middle of a fight no one would win, and then out of sheer exhaustion decide to cast all aside for the cold comfort of physical release. She didn’t mind it—hell, it was better than aspirin for her aches and pains—but she wondered, for the first time, if their strange physical relationship interfered with everything else. “You think we should cool it for a while?”

“Cool it?”

“With the jumping of bones and all.”

Hunter frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Faith shrugged. “Just makin’ sure you’re not reading more into it than I am.”

He rolled his eyes. “For bugger’s sake, is this about the whole relationship thing again? We’re not in one, and the only people who need to know that are in this room. To the world, yes, we might look like we’re something else, but—”

“No, it’s not about that. This is about you fucking me, looking at me while you’re thinking about someone else, being pissed at yourself for thinking of someone else, and then taking it out on me whenever you can.”

Hunter considered this, then recalled her words from earlier. “What about you going out of your way to make sure ‘someone else’ is as uncomfortable around me as possible?”

“Another reason to stop. I don’t mind being someone’s stand-in. As long as my buttons get pushed, I’m all for the ride.” Faith gave him a look, and he knew it was true. “But I don’t like being punished for your guilt-trip.”

He sighed. “This whole ‘friends with benefits’ thing doesn’t work, does it?”

“Maybe not. Don’t get me wrong, the only thing I want from you, aside from being treated like a human being, is your dick.”

“Thanks.”

“Right. I just don’t care for the shit that happens like tonight.”

“Me either.”

They looked at one another.

“So,” Faith said slowly. “We coolin’ it?”

He nodded, at once feeling bereft. “I guess so.”

They met each other’s eyes again, then clashed wildly in the middle of the room. His fingers pulled at her tank as hers tore at his pants. In seconds they were a naked tangle, mouths fused and tumbling toward the bed.

“This is a bad idea,” he said.

“Mhmm.”

“You should leave.”

Faith shrugged, her hand curling around his prick as he aligned himself with her entrance. “Just think of her.”

“Okay. Who you gonna think of?”

Her eyes went distant. “Haven’t decided. You’ll know in a minute.”

Hunter grinned and sank inside her. “Always do.”

*~*~*

“Whoa,” Ron said, leveling his wand at Sam. “What’s this blighter doing here?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let us through, Ronald. Willow asked for him.”

Sam looked about ready to knock someone over. His gaze was fixed on the room behind Ron; the one where James Ersnape—or Harry Potter—stood vigilant. Through the small window, he saw a flash of blonde hair and a profile of Donna’s face.

Willow’s room.

“Of course Willow asked for him,” Ron said. “Blimey, Hermione. Do you not remember the load you demanded from me when Hugo was born? I don’t think you really wanted Hagrid to deliver.”

“He’s the father, you nit,” Hermione responded.

“Yeah, and I remember how thrilled he was to learn that. It wasn’t but an hour ago.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Sam said, shoving past Ron. “She needs me.”

“Done just fine without you till now,” Harry said.

“It’s Josh. He kept her from me.”

“And that was her fault, was it?” Ron demanded.

“No, of course not. Look…what am I saying? The mother of my child is fifteen feet away, and I won’t let you, Ersnape, or any other British magic person stand in my way!”

In reality, Sam knew he stood little to no chance against the magically inclined, but at the moment any sense of self-preservation was indefinitely on hold. It was amazing how little one cared for the self when their offspring was involved. Or in Sam’s case, his child and the woman he had obsessed over for months.

Still—either by sheer will or Hermione’s influence—he managed to fight his way into Willow’s room, hardly realizing he’d managed past the threshold until his eyes fell on the single most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Willow had always been gorgeous. While outward appearance mattered little to Sam, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t immediately noticed her dazzling smile and kind eyes. Now, though, she looked damn near ethereal. Laying in bed, dressed in white, her long red hair flowing over her shoulders, and a baby in her arms, nursing intently on her exposed breast.

“Sam,” Donna said, jumping. “Oh thank God.”

At mention of his name, Willow glanced up. Whatever animosity he expected vanished.

“Sam,” she whispered, her voice mirroring every awestruck nerve in his body. “Look. Look at what we did.”

He did. He couldn’t take his eyes off the small, bald, perfect baby.

“His name is Samuel Osborne,” Willow said. He knew they had to talk—there was so much to discuss—but for the moment he couldn’t move his gaze off the child. “Come here and meet your son.”

At once, nothing outside this room mattered.

“My son,” he repeated, voice choked.

*~*~*

Melody gave a sigh of relief as she pulled out the third of her lasagnas from the oven. It looked as perfect as her first and she was pleased she would have something to deliver both of her sons when she went to see them later. The clock on the stove shone 3am. Her sleeping habits weren’t the only thing that had changed over the past few months.

Finding out that her son was a vampire had only been the tip of the iceberg. When Zack and Kelly had made their big confession, she was in disbelief. She understood the words, but didn’t get the meaning. It wasn’t until her baby boy lost his soul and went on a killing spree that it all sank in. It dawned on her that there was a secret world out there that she couldn’t have imagined possible.

And it scared the hell out of her.

But she had transitioned nicely, in her own opinion. She accepted vampires and demons and slayers and Seers and magic and the underworld in which paranormal was the normal. Over time, she could even accept that her child could become a soulless monster with the turn of a mystical switch.

The Derek situation had been a bit harder to digest. Granted, she had known he was a lying, cheating son of a bitch, but she was okay with that. She’d fallen out of love with him shortly after Zack had been born. She went through the motions for her son’s sake as well as her need to fit in with L.A. high society. In her circle, women knew their husband’s were fooling around, but didn’t talk. That would just be tacky.

She wasn’t all too surprised to learn that Derek had another child. The shock came from the fact he had tried to kill him. Wright was a dead ringer as a Morris, and she couldn’t process how a man could look at their spitting image and try to kill them. Not only Wright, but he made attempts on all three of his children. One he almost got his sick wish.

Six times. Six times he had tried to kill an innocent child. All for money and greed. He had his own son’s soul revoked just so he could attempt to kill his grandchild. _Grandchild._ Melody shook her head in disgust. She had shared a bed with something more evil than any demon she could ever meet.

Melody knew she should have felt more emotion when Derek was killed. She should have been upset that her husband was gone. Sad for the time wasted. All she could muster was anger and embarrassment. She made it her life goal to make up for her mistakes by being the best mother and grandmother she possibly could.

Wright hadn’t asked for her to become his mother figure, but she was going to give it to him nonetheless. Not just because she felt she owed the man something for all the pain he’d had to go through over the years, but because he looked just like her own Zack. Being a mother was the only thing she was good at. She couldn’t slay demons, translate ancient texts or concoct plans to thwart the latest apocalypse. But she could make a damn good lasagna.

Nobody asked any questions after Derek died. To everyone at the Hyperion, the situation was over. They hadn’t thought about the fact that Derek Morris had been the CEO and President of one of the largest software companies in the world. Wolfram and Hart had thankfully covered the details. Melody knew the only reason was to keep authorities from digging into Derek’s past and finding out the connection he had with the law firm. How they did it she didn’t know or care, but two weeks after he had been murdered and buried in the backyard of the Hyperion, it was announced that Derek Morris had been found dead in an upscale hotel room from an apparent suicide. All of his assets and shares were left to his wife and there wouldn’t be a public memorial or service.

That worked fine for her. She stopped by her house a couple times and looked at the cards and plants, but nothing more. As quickly as she could, she had sold every last bit of Morris Industries as well as the house and contents. Clothes and pictures were all she took to her new apartment in the same building Zack and Kelly had moved to.

Rupert was the only one who knew she now possessed nearly half a billion dollars in her bank accounts. He was the only one that knew she planned to split the money between both of Derek Morris’ children. She hadn’t done it yet because she doubted neither one wanted a reminder of the evil man, but she felt it was only right to give it to them. In time, she hoped it would be a comfort. Payment for all the suffering he had put them through.

The sound of the front door opening was enough to bring her back to the present. “Rupert?” she called.

Possibly stranger than dealing with vampires, psychopathic dead husbands and evil law firms was the fact that she had found the greatest man on Earth in the process. Rupert Giles had held her hand every step of the way as she ventured into a brand new world. He’d become her best friend over time. And then he became so much more.

“Please tell me that delicious smell is your famous lasagna.”

She gave a blushing smile. “I don’t really think you can call it famous.”

He gave a cocky grin. “My stomach begs to differ.”

She turned to grab some plates. “So, how was the evening?”

He walked over and grabbed a bottle of wine on the counter and began searching for a corkscrew. “Oh, fine. Your son got in a fight with Kelly and took off and sent everyone all over L.A. on a chase, but Spike found him soul engaged. Then, as I was leaving, I was hearing Wright screaming about Nick and Faith taking Rosalie out to the bars.”

She nearly dropped the plates. “What?”

“I know. I’m pretty surprised Nick would do something like that.”

“Zack! You mean he actually _talked_ to Kelly and Spike?”

“Yes.” He gave her a small smile.

“That’s great!”

“Somehow I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Well, that just means a step in the right direction, right?”

“Considering that I never heard any death reports, I would say so.”

“Good,” she agreed as she dished up dinner.

“Now, let’s hurry up and eat because its only 3am and I wouldn’t mind getting you a little drunk.”

Yeah. She was pretty sure she loved this man.

*~*~*

Donna tried twice to leave the room once Sam arrived, but both mother and father seemed determined to keep her there. She figured neither one were ready to have the inevitable talk about the past nine months and the future of Samuel Osborne. She didn’t mind at all. Not only did she love looking at the beautiful baby boy, but she really didn’t want to leave and face the fact she was going to have to see Josh again. 

The room was quiet until the nurse entered the room. “Ms. Rosenberg? If you’re ready, we’re going to move you to a private room now. We have another delivery scheduled shortly and figure you might need some rest.” 

“Sure,” Willow replied. Her eyes never left her baby boy as he was being cradled in his father’s arms. 

“From midnight until 6am, we limit you to two visitors at a time. I’ve already spoken with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well as Mr. Potter. They said they would return tomorrow…or later today I should say.”

“Okay. Thanks,” the witch said.

“I’d suggest that the baby go with mother for the transportation process.” The nurse gave a snobbish look to Sam. “Muggles are usually not very coordinated when it comes to transport.”

“Oh.” Sam snapped his gaze up from the baby to look to Willow. He gave a sheepish smile as he handed the baby over.

Donna didn’t know what to expect, but not what happened. Once again, she was dragged though time and space from one place to another. One second she was standing next to Willow’s bed in the delivery room and next she was on her butt on the floor in a dim-lit, private hospital room. “A little warning would have been nice,” she grumbled as she picked herself up off the floor. The only comfort was the fact that Sam was also crawling up off the ground.

“Is that normal?” he asked.

“Muggles,” the nurse muttered under her breath before turning to Willow. “Remember: two guests only overnight. The room is equipped with a detection charm that will sound at the front desk.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out Willow’s wand. “Two flicks will alert the desk if you need anything and there is a healer on call if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Willow said. Her attention was focused entirely on her bundle of joy.

The nurse turned to Donna. “And don’t worry, dear. The Staff informed me downstairs and I’ve already set a bypass up for you. Understandably, the system is very sensitive with so many trying to sneak in after hours with disillusionment charms or invisibility cloaks.”

Donna blinked in confusion. She had no idea what this lady was talking about. “Huh?”

The nurse looked similarly confused. “You know…for you and the baby.”

“Samuel?”

The nurse rolled her eyes. “ _Your_ baby not hers.”

“I don’t have a baby.”

The nurse turned to Willow. “Muggles don’t even know when they’re pregnant?”

Sam whipped to look at Donna. “You’re pregnant?”

All at once, the room grew very hot and her vision started to blur. She had been missing her period for the last few months, but she hadn’t always been the most regular. She wore a birth control patch which she changed every…she had rescheduled her doctor appointment after her prescription had run out. Her schedule had been off, but only by a few days. Everything started to spin as she noted she’d been feeling nauseous a lot lately. That couldn’t possibly mean…”I’m pregnant?”

Everything faded to black.

*~*~*

Rosalie smashed the alarm clock into pieces when it rang out at 6am. Angry and half-asleep, she crawled out of bed and fumbled her way to the closet. Grabbing a random shirt and jeans, she then rummaged through a drawer and picked up a change of panties and a bra before heading to the bathroom to dress.

The peaceful silence of the Hyperion did nothing but piss her off more. Everyone else was comfortably asleep, yet she had to go to school and pretend she gave a damn.

Bullshit.

She wasn’t sure if it was her dad’s delusion that going to school was going to make her normal or that she could still be treated like a child as long as she acted like it. Either way, she didn’t see the point. Maybe if her future wasn’t already set in stone, she could get behind getting out of bed to go write papers and take tests.

Buffy had gone to school. That was always the fallback excuse. Rosalie also understood that Buffy’s high school was on a Hellmouth and going to school had actually had a point. Her school was on a street corner across from a bunch of West Hollywood transvestite hookers. Not exactly the same thing.

Finishing up in the bathroom, she went back to her room and flipped on the light. After putting on her shoes and gathering her backpack, she went and grabbed her phone off the nightstand. Hunter had left her a message.

_Sorry about everything. Talk to you later._

Later. That just made her want to kick him in the balls. He was sound asleep, likely in Faith’s room, while she had to get up and go lead her double life. After a full day at school, she would have to spend hours practicing fighting techniques and listening to Hunter drone on. His stupid history lessons were only slightly more tolerable than algebra. Then, she would go patrol until the wee hours of the morning before taking a shower and falling into to bed. Somewhere in all that she was supposed to do all her homework.

And everyone seriously wondered why she was failing all her classes? Hunter wondered why she fell asleep every time he started talking?

She needed a fucking nap already.

Stomping down the stairs she made her way to the kitchen to fetch a Diet Coke and Pop Tarts before making her way out the front doors and down the block. She hadn’t minded school when she could find an empty classroom and sleep the day away. Unfortunately, the school and learned her dirty little secret and had since started locking the door to all the empty rooms.

Bullshit.

It didn’t take long to make it to her spot in the back of English class. As she waited for the bell to ring, she laid her head down on the desk. She remembered she had a paper to write on Jane Austen. Maybe she could just watch the movies and write something based on that. Colin Firth was pretty hot for an old guy.

She hadn’t realized she had fallen asleep until the teacher came and whacked her on the shoulder. “Huh?” she said as she popped her head up. The classroom was as empty as before.

“The bell rang, Wright,” the teacher snapped.

“Oh?” Rosalie rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. First block was over and there were already students walking in for the next class.

“Do you have your term paper?”

“Term paper? That’s not due until the 25th.”

“It _is_ the 25th.”

“Well, fuck.”

The teacher, Mrs. Stewart, turned and headed back toward her desk. “I’m done with you. You haven’t turned in a single thing and the semester is almost over. I warned the counselor about your apparent drug problem, but she told me to work through it.”

“I have a drug problem?”

Stewart didn’t pay her any attention. “I want you to go to the counselor’s office.” She scribbled something onto a piece of paper before thrusting it at Rosalie. “And at this point I don’t care if you come back to my class until you get some substance abuse treatment.”

“I don’t abuse substances!” Rosalie snapped. “I don’t even use substances!”

“Go!”

“Fine!” she countered. “But not because you want me to, but because I don’t want to go to algebra next block!” She started out the door before turning around. “And you’re a bitch!”

As she made her way down to the counselor’s office, she felt marginally better. Maybe it was telling off Stewart, or maybe it was the secret hope she might get kicked out of school. Though her dad would kick her ass, the beating would be worth it.

“This could be fun,” Rosalie told herself as she entered the counselor’s office.


	7. Chapter 7

Kelly’s head was throbbing as she heard Rosie and William calling for her. “Mom, mom, mom, mom,” they sang as she lay on the bed with her eyes closed.

“What?” she croaked.

“It’s school time!” William chirped. “Rise and shine!”

“Yeah, mom,” Rosie said. “You haven’t made our lunches yet.”

Kelly rolled over to look at the clock. She never slept this late. All at once, memories of the night before came to her. “Oh, Good and Plenty,” she cried as she hopped up off the bed and raced to Zack’s door. She tried the knob and found it locked. That was all the confirmation she needed to verify it wasn’t a nightmare.

“Mom?” Rosie asked.

“Yes?” she didn’t turn to face them.

“Is everything okay?”

“Why?”

“You only Good and Plenty when it’s serious.”

“Well,” she turned around and cleared her throat. “Let’s make lunch.” She looked at her son and rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been up in time to dress him. “No, Will. You are not wearing the Batman costume to school. Rosie, please go dress your brother.”

Making her way to kitchen, she tried to block out everything she had said and done to Zack. It was hard enough living with him without being mortified to look at him. Luckily, she could blame a large chunk of it on the alcohol. But not all.

Suddenly, she remembered that Spike had announced they were going away. She didn’t know when, but she was going to be leaving her children. Before long she wouldn’t be the one making sandwiches and driving the kids to McDonalds every morning before school. She wouldn’t get to read bedtime stories or give baths. She wouldn’t be…here.

She hadn’t realized she was bawling until she looked up to see Rosie and William leading Zack into the kitchen. Each child held one of his hands and he stood before her wearing boxers and a white undershirt. “See, dad,” Rosie said. “Something’s wrong with Mom.”

“I’m fine,” Kelly sniffled. “I just…got peanut butter in my eye.”

“Why did you put peanut butter in your eye?” William asked.

“Mom’s okay,” Zack said softly. “She just didn’t get much sleep last night.” He looked up at her. “I’d take them to school, but…” he wiggled the hand Rosie was grasping. “Lacking daylight essentials.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kelly said shaking her head and gathering her composure. “I’m fine.”

She understood. Rosie and William would be with her the next few years, but she was going to be a vampire for eternity. Spike was right in the fact that none of them really knew what that entailed. It was essential to get in touch with her demon and deal with the fact that she belonged to a family aside from her children. Buffy was her sire and Spike was her master. As strange as it seemed now, she knew she had to comprehend it. Hopefully, through it all she could find out if she and Zack really were meant to be together forever.

She understood, but she didn’t have to like it.

*~*~*

Wesley kept his eye on the way Faith buttered bread. It was sloppy and violent, and tore the tender fabric holding the loaf together, but it got the job done.

Wright and Gunn were out, tending to some call received earlier concerning a three-eyed demon in south central LA. Cordelia had taken baby Kelly to the doctor for a routine checkup, and then was mall-bound with Melody to pick out some things for Rosalie. With as much attention as the baby had received, Cordelia was apparently concerned Rosalie would feel replaced or overlooked, and the new mother wanted to assure her stepdaughter that she considered her just as much her child as she did her biological daughter.

It left Wesley alone with Faith and Hunter, though he hadn’t seen the latter all day. He figured Faith had worn the poor guy well and truly out.

Wesley had to admit—he felt more like himself now. As though slowly emerging from a coma to realize the life he’d thought was gone forever hadn’t left him at all, merely blinked out for a little while. A part of him remained irrevocably damaged and shaped by Fred’s death, but as much as he missed her, the clouds were parting and he felt he finally could make out the rays of sunshine at the end of a long tunnel.

Still, his deal with Wolfram and Hart remained as it was. Soon he would have to place the bracelet around Rosalie’s wrist and instigate the steps between here and securing the fate of Fred’s killer. He knew the others wouldn’t understand, and the fragile relationship they’d developed would likely shatter…but he also knew his friends were prone to forgiveness and understanding. Look at how quickly they had changed their tune pertaining to Zack Morris’s fate. One minute he was dead to them, and the next he was back to being their cause.

As though nothing had happened.

Wesley’s hands balled into fists. He had to distract himself and fast, else the rage he had successfully quieted would surface and betray his cause. “Are you making a sandwich or punishing the bread?”

Faith smirked and raised a butter-drenched knife. “Cook I ain’t. You’re seeing me make the one thing I’m good at besides cereal.”

“Shredded wheat?”

“Hardy har har.” The phone rang, and as always, the sound caused them both to damn near jump out of their skin. Seeing as the business line was on the ground floor, the ringer was always set to eardrum-piercing in case no one was nearby.

“Goddamn, I’ll never get used to that,” Faith grumbled, stalking toward the phone and all but yanking it off the wall. “Wright and Pryce. What can I do you for?” She paused, her eyes going wide. “Uhhh, yeah, this is Cordelia.”

“What?” Wesley mouthed, waving his arms.

Faith frowned at him and made a shooing motion with her free hand. “Yeah. October 18, 1981. Last four are one-eight-one-three. So what’d she do now?” She nodded. “Uh huh. Drugs? Yeah, her _dad_ and I always figured it might be something like this.”

“Are. You. Out. Of. Your. Mind?” Wesley hissed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No. We’re on our way. Her father and I. Yes, yes. I look forward to seeing you again, too.” Faith smiled faintly and hung up.

“What did you do?” Wesley asked, going slightly numb.

“I need to go look through Cordelia’s pre-preggo clothes.”

“Faith, are you _out_ of your mind?”

“And you need to Wright yourself up.” She paused, then snickered. “In more ways than one. How’s your American accent?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Wesley growled. “If they’ve _met_ her parents—”

“Months ago,” Faith assured him. “I’m brunette, hot as fuck, and I have big tits. That’s all they’ll remember of her. And you’re all broody and scruffy. Your hair’s not as long, but you’ll do.”

“You honestly think we can _pose_ as her parents?”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Look, the kid’s in trouble. She was out until fuck knows when and it’s not like anything she learns in that shit school’s gonna matter any, is it? She’s the goddamn Slayer. She’s getting no fucking sleep and then being sent out there to defend the world from nasty-ass motherfuckers. If Wright were thinking like a sane person, he’d realize that yanking her outta school’s gonna be what saves her fucking life.”

Wesley opened his mouth to protest, but just as quickly realized Faith had a point. Even so, it wasn’t as though Rosalie’s position as slayer was permanent. He’d set in action events that would return her to the bubbly normal girl she’d been before all of this. Until then, ensuring she got a measure of rest would keep her alive.

“So how are you going to tell him?” he asked instead. “Wright? He won’t be happy?”

Faith laughed. “Tell him? Are you outta your fuckin’ mind?” She snickered again and shook her head. “Dearie, that’s _your_ job.”

*~*~*

“He’s perfect,” Willow cooed, admiring the sleepy, somewhat squishy face of her newborn babe. “Perfect little hands. Perfect little nose. Perfect little tosey-woesies.”

“Isn’t he?” Sam agreed, tickling one of the tosey-woesies in question. “He’s the cutest little guy in the whole wide world. Yes you are! You are!”

Willow giggled and brushed her lips across Sammy’s tender brow. She was stretched out on a bed, Sam sitting at her side. To where they had whisked Donna—whose shock at discovering her condition had rendered her damn bear manic—she didn’t know. And while she realized this likely classified her as a bad friend, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her child long enough to give a damn. “I didn’t know it was possible to love this much,” she whispered. “Ginny and Hermione…they said it felt like this, but I didn’t believe it. Even with him inside me…”

Sam swallowed and looked up, the laughter fading from his eyes. “We need to talk, don’t we?”

Willow frowned, her elated high taking a mild, yet not fatal plunge. They did need to talk—about this and what came next and everything. It wasn’t a conversation she particularly looked forward to. She’d much rather gaze lovingly upon her son and observe other cute things about him. Like his eyes—so much like his fathers. The wispy strands of brown hair crowning his head. The wide yawns he gulped down, and even though she knew it was a fluke, the way he seemed to smile. Newborn babies couldn’t smile, or so she’d heard, but Sammy kept beaming at her.

Talking about her damaged relationship with the baby’s father seemed exhausting, and she was already ready to sleep for about eight months.

“I didn’t know,” Sam whispered softly. “I didn’t know about the baby.”

Willow licked her lips. “I know.”

“Josh says you tried to tell me.”

She snickered. “About fifteen hundred times. I tried calling every number I had and then some, and then I showed up—”

Sam winced. “I heard about that.”

“Josh made it perfectly clear you’d moved on.”

“But I didn’t. I never moved on.”

“You and your friend looked chummy enough.”

“Ainsley was never my girlfriend,” Sam swore. “It was Josh’s idea. To get my mind off you. Ainsley and I had flirted a few years ago, so he thought it was time to play matchmaker. Neither one of us really cared to be matched, especially considering the fact that she has a boyfriend overseas and I was still in love with you.”

An annoying surge of tears welled behind her eyes, and she didn’t know how much she could blame on her rickety hormones. “You were in love with me? You said you weren’t.”

“When did I say that? I never said that.”

“Yes you did! Before you left LA. You said you were wrong and you didn’t love me.” 

He paused. “Okay, so I said that. How did you remember?”

“Hearing the man I loved saying he didn’t love me? Kinda hard to forget.”

“So you love me, too?”

Willow sniffled and miserably and turned her attention back to Sammy. Just looking at the baby had a way of eradicating her sadness. “I did,” she said, pressing her lips to Sammy’s head again. “Before.”

She didn’t need to be looking at him to know his face had fallen. “So not anymore,” he said.

“Sam—”

“No, I understand. I do. The things I said to you were awful—”

“It’s not about that,” Willow said, turning back to him. “Truly.”

“So just because, then?”

“You have to understand something: for at least eight of the last nine months, I have been at peace with the fact that I’d be raising this child on my own. I didn’t want to keep it from you,” she clarified, “I just didn’t know what to do. Every time I tried to get in touch, Josh intercepted and—”

“I don’t blame you for that,” Sam assured her.

“I know.”

“Josh was an unforgivable ass.”

Willow pursed her lips. “I know. But I can’t help but think if I’d just told him to begin with…why it was so important that I get in touch with you…”

Sam’s gaze turned steely. “No. I don’t care where his mind was, what his intentions were, what he thought would happen, or why he thought you were trying to get a hold of me. My life is not licensed as his vehicle to political success.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully he’s received the memo.” Willow frowned. “Is it sad the really vindictive part of me wants to tell him Donna has big news but I can’t tell him what it is, you know, because it’d ruin his career?”

“Not sad, but I wouldn’t advise it. No one deserves to be separated from the mother of their child. Or their child.”

Willow huffed. “Party pooper.”

“Guilty.” Sam wet his lips. “Willow, I know we have a long road ahead, but I will not be shoved out of my son’s life because of someone else’s mistake. I want you. I _love_ you. I love our son. I want to marry you, move you over here, and spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve wasted too much time already telling myself something that isn’t true.”

The damn tears were back. “Sam…”

“I don’t care what I have to do to convince you I’m serious.”

“No, I know you’re serious.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“I have a life, Sam. I have a life and a job and friends I love very much and I don’t particularly want to give them up.” She trembled. “My job is important to me. My students are important to me. I want to…I have too much back in England to just—”

“What if I moved to England?”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“What if I was the one who moved? What if I came to you?”

“But…California. Your career—”

Sam smiled tightly. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. My life isn’t one large campaign. My life is mine, and it’s mine to spend with you. I don’t need to be president to be happy. I _do_ need you.”

The certainty in his voice, in his eyes, frightened her. What she’d said was true—and no matter how thrilled she might be, how excited, the very real fact remained that she’d all but moved on with her life. The prospect of looking back, of having the thing she’d once wanted—and the thing for which the pursuit had broken her heart—was downright terrifying. She didn’t know how to respond, thus held her tongue.

And silence was definitely not the best answer.

*~*~*

“So that’s it?”

Buffy nodded, exiting out of the browser. “That’s it.”

“It’s that simple?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Honestly, Spike, there are times when you show your age. You saw the confirmation email, didn’t you?”

He snickered. “Sorry. Just not used to booking rooms an’ the like over the computer.”

“You are so old.”

“Oi! Take that back!”

Buffy giggled and kicked her chair back. “You’ve survived two world wars, a depression, the fifties, the Reagan administration, and yet something like clicking _charge this to my Visa_ on a computer screen has you baffled.”

Spike growled, yanking her to her feet. “Quiet, you.”

“Or what? You’ll Early Bird Special me to death?”

A gentle knock on the door took Spike’s reply off his lips. Buffy peered over his shoulder. “What’s up, Kel?”

The brunette stood in the open doorway, her eyes heavy with apprehension and concern. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No,” Buffy said.

“Give a sec, though, and you might be,” Spike added.

“I was just…I dunno, thinking about this whole _we’re going away_ thing and I wanted to see if any decisions have been made.” She glanced pointedly at the computer. “How’s my timing?”

“Pretty solid,” Buffy said. “We just signed a six-month lease for this little apartment.”

Kelly’s jaw fell slack. “Six months?”

Spike shrugged. “Gives us a running start.”

“You want me to leave my children for six months?”

Buffy frowned. “Well, we’ll come back for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but we really oughta—”

Kelly shook her head, crossing her arms. “No. I can’t do it. Not for six months. You can’t ask me to leave my children for six whole months.”

“Six months isn’t a long time,” Spike pointed out. “That’s the human inside you talking. We got forever—”

“And they don’t. That’s the point. They have a lifetime ahead of them, sure, but nothing compared to what we’re going to face. And I’m taking six whole months just…for me?” Kelly shook her head again. “No. I can’t do this. It’s barbaric of you to ask.”

Buffy exchanged a look with Spike, who looked sullen but unsurprised. Apparently he’d already considered this possibility. “Kelly,” Buffy began slowly, her voice tempered. “This isn’t just for you. We are your family. Me, Spike, and Zack. And we have to figure out how we work together.”

“Well, we’re getting off to a great start, don’t you think?” Kelly huffed. “Asking the only mother to abandon her children?”

“Kelly, you knew this was going to happen,” Buffy said, trying to keep her tone level and reasonable. “You knew we were going to leave, and the children were staying here—”

“If you mean I’ve known for a few hours, you’re right.”

A different voice penetrated the air, and Zack’s head poked in the room. “What’s going on in here?”

Spike arched a brow. “Buffy jus’ signed lease on a flat.”

“A six month lease,” Kelly muttered.

Zack nodded. “We’re going?”

“Well, that’s the plan,” Buffy said. “Kelly’s having some trouble.”

“What trouble?”

“It’s six months,” Kelly said. “Six months away from Rosie and William.”

“We’re coming back for the holidays,” Spike murmured.

“That’s not the point! You’re asking me to leave my children.”

Zack frowned and took a small step toward his wife. “Kel—”

“We have real problems,” Spike growled. “We can’t just wait till your kids are grown an’ gone to do this. You bloody well know it.”

“No, I don’t _bloody well_ know anything.” Kelly shook her head, flinching violently when Zack tried to grab her arm. “Don’t touch me. Just…all of you, leave me alone.”

She was gone the next instant, followed by the sound of a slamming door.

A series of quizzical glances were exchanged.

“I’ll talk to her,” Zack said.

“She’s been under a lot of stress,” Buffy agreed. Then she caught herself and laughed, though without humor. “We all have.”

“I just think it’s finally coming down on her. That this is serious and not something we just talk about doing. She knows we need to do this, but she’s scared.”

Buffy nodded. “Who isn’t?”

Spike didn’t say anything; rather, he wiggled an arm over Buffy’s shoulders and nodded as well, pulling her tight against him.

“Go and talk to her,” Buffy said. “We’ll be waiting.”

*~*~*

Rosalie didn’t know what the hell she expected once she heard her parents were on their way, but it definitely wasn’t what she received.

Sporting one of Cordelia’s favorite sundresses, a pair of loud circa-Cordelia’s attempt to “make it” as an actress sunglasses, and a handbag Cordelia hadn’t used in forever, Faith strolled into the office with a very constipated-looking Wesley, which Rosalie assumed immediately was supposed to be an imitation of her father.

A bubble of laughter tickled her throat; she slapped a hand over her mouth and looked away.

_Oh Jesus._

This would either work or land her in more trouble than she was worth. Either way, it would be hilarious.

“Ah, Mr. Wright,” the counselor, Mr. Petrie, said, rising from his desk. “And Missus—”

“Chase,” Faith said, sighing in a pitch perfect Cordelia-esque voice. Rosalie had to work to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. “And _Miss._ This one hasn’t forked over the cash to put a rock on my finger yet.” She aimed a glare in Rosalie’s direction. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

Rosalie seriously hoped Faith didn’t expect a response; she feared opening her mouth would result in death by laughter.

“Mrs. Stuart, Rosalie’s English teacher, caught Rosalie asleep in class. Again. Obviously there is something going after school—”

Faith gasped and placed a hand against her heart. “Are you accusing us of raising her in an unfit home?”

“No, of course—”

“I don’t know if I care for the way you address parents. Or the way you drag students in here to accuse them of crimes for which you have no evidence.” Faith’s eyes narrowed. “I believe I heard something about drugs on the phone?”

“If you please, Rosalie exhibits many signs of teenagers who are dabbling in drug use. Perhaps a simple urine test—”

“Whoa. Hold it there, buddy. You are not testing _my daughter_ for urine or syphilis or whatever else you pervert counselors like to do to teenage girls. It’s _our job_ to ensure she is raised appropriately.”

“And it is our job to ensure her home life isn’t something of concern,” Mr. Petrie snapped.

“Hey!” Wesley shouted, his voice strained in an American accent. “I will not have you throwing those accusations around.”

“What accusation?” Petrie demanded. “I’m just stating what we are obligated to do by state law—”

“Well,” Wesley said, leaning in close. “Why don’t you take your state law and shove it up your ass. Rosalie?”

Rosalie lowered her trembling arm from her mouth and fought back her laughter. _“Dad?”_ she replied.

“Go get your things. You won’t be coming back.”

“Okay, _Dad._ If you insist, _Dad._ ”

Wesley nodded. “You go with Faa….your mother and clear out your locker. I’ll stay here and sign whatever the _fuck—”_ he added for obvious Zack Wright emphasis, “—needs to be signed.”

Once in the hallway, and a safe distance from the counselor’s office, Rosalie released the monstrous uproar of laughter residing in her throat, and Faith joined her.

“Where the flying fuck did you learn that?” Rosalie demanded, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’ve never…oh shit…”

“You forget,” Faith said, “I’ve known mommy dearest a long time.”

“That was brilliant.”

“I thought so. Now hurry the fuck up and get your stuff.”

“Where are we going?”

“To the getaway car. Nick’s driving.” Faith shrugged. “From there, who the fuck knows? But away from here.”

“I love you guys.”

“Yeah, I know. We are the shit. Now just don’t lose yours before we get outta here.”

“Yes, Mother.”

*~*~*

Zack knew he wasn’t the right guy for the job, but he wasn’t really given much of a choice. Leaving was bigger than him; it was something that they all needed. Zack knew he was the catalyst, but it had only been a matter of time before reality would step in and tell them they weren’t just humans without heartbeats and allergies to sunlight. They were demons. Soulful as they were, except for Spike who just acted like a guy with a soul, they were still demons.

Zack knew better than Kelly about the urges of the demon side. The years of playing pretend hadn’t prepared him for the rush of freedom he had felt when his soul was ripped away. For the first time in his life, he _understood_ what it meant to be a vampire. The bloodlust. The need for power. The cravings for sex and violence. While he would forever regret the things he had done, he honestly couldn’t admit that he didn’t still crave the amazing feeling and power he had experienced being a _vampire._ He felt like a dirty drug addict at how bad his demon cried out to him for a moment of release.

He had absolutely no idea how Spike did it. It was hard enough to control it all with a soul in place to keep you in check. Spike had absolutely nothing holding him back from wrecking Hell on Earth. Though he wasn’t about to say it to his face, Zack knew that Spike was likely one of the most lethal and notorious of all the vamps “alive.” The fact that all that kept Spike’s demon in check was his love for Buffy really was something unbelievable. Spike was likely the strongest person he had ever met, though Zack would have to be on his deathbed before he admitted it.

Gently, he knocked on Kelly’s bedroom door. “No,” she called out.

“Kel, can we please talk?” He didn’t even bother trying the knob to confirm she had locked it.

“And I said no!”

He sighed, placing his palms on the closed entry and bracing his weight. “This isn’t really going to help the situation.”

“I’m not going! If I have to sacrifice our marriage to be a mother then that’s what I’m going to do!”

“This isn’t about our marriage!”

“Zackary Taylor Morris! Don’t try to lie to me!”

“Kelly Kapowski Morris!” He was quickly losing his cool. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he started again. “This isn’t about our marriage, Kel. God, what I wouldn’t give for us to be _us_ again. And the leaving the kids sucks a big one, but you can’t really be their mom until you learn how to be a vampire.”

He heard glass shatter. “I don’t know what’s more offensive. I’m not a mother _or_ a vampire?!? Fuck you, Morris!”

“Fuck,” he grumbled. He wasn’t winning this one. “You’re a fantastic mom and vampire?”

“Thanks.” Her voice was dripping in sarcasm.

“Look, what I was meaning is that being a vampire is more than just drinking blood and beating up the baddies. It involves listening to your demon. Learning to cohabitate with that creature inside us that keeps us alive for eternity. I know you’ve been ignoring it. Repressing the urges. I did it too. And I still try to everyday. It’s harder now than before because now I understand what it wants. The sex. The power. The blood. Not this pig shit we drink. Real blood. Fresh blood.” He took a shaky breath. “And I know that part of it all involves figuring out how to be a family. A vampire family. And until we’re able to understand what all that is, I don’t think we can completely be there for Rosie and Will.”

There was complete silence from the other end. That was not exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Unable to take the quiet, he caved. “Kel?” He hadn’t expected the door to crack open. Actually, he had forgotten that the door was still a door after leaning against it for so long. His reaction time was slow and before he could shift his weight, he was tumbling to floor at Kelly’s feet.

She was staring down at him with her arms folded and what he hoped was a ghost of a smile. “Hey,” he said flashing a wide toothy grin. “You opened the door.”

“Yeah.” Her voice lacked any of its previous fire.

“Does this mean you’re coming?”

“Did I have a choice?”

“Well, I want to say yes, but Spike and Buffy could probably kick our asses in a pinch.”

“Probably?”

“Without a doubt.”

She unfolded her arms and reached a hand out to Zack. He was so shocked that he hesitated a moment. “Well,” she said. “I guess we better get packing then.”

Touching her skin ignited a burn inside of him. He wasn’t sure if it was the demon crying out for sex or the old Zack Morris and his lifelong desire for Kelly Kapowski. Either way he was one horny motherfucker. “Sounds like a plan.”

*~*~*

Donna opened her eyes and let out a small shriek. “Holy shit!” she cried as she clutched her rapidly beating chest. Unable to explain how she ended up lying on a sofa in the middle of the hospital waiting room, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood over her looking intensely down upon her.

“Well,” Ron drawled. “She’s not dead.”

Harry spoke as Hermione whacked her husband on the shoulder. “I thought we were checking to see if she was okay.”

Ron huffed. “And being alive is a pretty important part of that.”

Hermione turned her attention to Donna. “Are you okay? Willow told us about your…unexpected news.”

Ron shook his head. “Just be grateful the dad isn’t that complete wanker, Lyman. Right?” The ginger wizard cursed harshly as Hermione and Harry slapped both his shoulders simultaneously.

“Yup,” Donna weakly confirmed. “That wanker is indeed the dad.”

Hermione cleared her throat loudly. “Boys.” She gave the men a quick glare. “Why don’t you two go tell Willow we found Donna and we’ll join you shortly?”

“Okay,” the guys said in unison as they took the hint and bolted.

Once the coast was clear, Donna made herself upright and motioned to Hermione to take a seat next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” The witch asked.

“I…” Donna shakily began. “I don’t know what to do.”

Hermione sighed. “Well, first I would suggest deciding on whether you plan to keep the baby.”

“Yes!” the American cried. “I haven’t waited this long for nothing!”

“Okay,” Hermione responded with a smile. “Then, you’ll be fine. The doctors will be able to check you out and give you all the medical preparations you’ll need. Willow and I and Ginny can give you tips on everything from morning sickness to how to deal with potty training. It’s really wonderful when you get to stare into those beautiful eyes for the very first time.”

“Should I tell him?”

“The baby?”

“Josh!”

“Oh.” Hermione furrowed her brow. “Well…that’s up to you.”

Donna shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do at the moment was confront Josh. She hadn’t yet decided if she could forgive him for what he had done to Sam and Willow. “I don’t know if I can.”

Hermione nodded her head. “Well, why don’t we go down to Willow’s room and we can worry about that later?”

“Okay.” Hopefully Willow could give her some advice.


	8. Chapter 8

The three of them were all laughing by the time they exited the school. Nick gave a sigh of relief when he saw them. Unfortunately, fooling the school was the easy part. Now they had to figure out how to fool Zack Wright. That one wouldn’t be as easy to pull off.

“You would not believe how awesome that was!” Rosalie gushed the moment she opened the door and crawled into the passenger seat.

“I was pretty damn awesome,” Faith confirmed, sliding in the back.

“What about me?” Wesley asked.

“I like you better with your normal accent,” Rosalie declared. “Though that was pretty funny when you went all badass.”

“I thought I gave an exceptional performance.” The former Watcher pouted.

Nick didn’t want to take any chances, and started the engine and drove away from the parking lot. The Hyperion wasn’t an option at the moment so he drove toward the opposite direction. They needed a plan and fast.

Rosalie spoke. “Nick, I wish you could have seen how crazy awesome Faith was pretending to be my mom.”

“The Cordelia of today is _not_ the Cordy of the old days,” Faith reasoned. “Back then, she was a total bitch.”

Rosalie giggled. Wesley responded. “Yes, she was indeed a…total bitch.”

It took several minutes for the laughter to die, but eventually they fell silent as the car made its way aimlessly down the freeway. “Where are we going?” Rosalie asked.

Nick shrugged. “No bloody idea. You can’t go home now and we aren’t going to leave you.” He paused, waiting for suggestions. “Faith? Wesley?”

Glancing to the back seat, he watched as Wesley shook his head. Faith wrinkled her brow. “What? Am I supposed to be the mastermind here? I came up with the first damn part!”

Nick sighed. “Well, this sucks.”

Rosalie folded her arms. “It would be easier if we didn’t all live at the same place. Then, we could just hang out there until three o’clock.”

The Watcher slapped himself on the forehead. “Of course! Rosalie you amazing woman! You’re a bloody genius.”

Faith and Wesley spoke in unison. “She is?”

Rosalie gave him a skeptical look. “I am?”

“Yes, sweetheart you are!” Nick let out a laugh. “This is gonna be brilliant!”

*~*~*

Josh was going out of his mind. Searching all night, he had come up with no clues as to where Sam or Donna had gone. For all he knew, they had been zapped to some sort of magical realm on a different planet.

After checking the Willard, Donna’s barely used apartment and Sam’s hotel room, he’d given up and headed back to his townhouse. Since most of Donna’s possessions were located at his place, he hoped he could catch her as she snuck in to grab some clothes.

He called in to work. He’d never done that before. Desperate times called for desperate measures and he was desperate. Josh Lyman had a long track record of messing things up. This one just happened to be too close to home.

Running his hands through his hair, Josh attempted to rationalize the current situation. Yes, he had screwed everything up with Willow and Sam. They were smart people though, so he was reasonably sure they would understand why he did what he did. Maybe he had meddled where he shouldn’t have, but it wasn’t malicious. At the time, he honestly thought he was doing the best for Sam’s career and life.

There should be some credit given for good intentions.

The situation with Donna was a trickier mess to handle. He had known she was going to be pissed at him, but hadn’t banked on her being so upset. Yes, he lied. Yes, he meddled. Yes, he kept things from her. But he’s done worse. Granted, he couldn’t think of them at the moment, but he knew he had.

He flopped on the couch with a groan, he gave up. What could he do, but apologize and hope they would hurry up and get to the part where they forgave him.

He doubted that Sam was going to name his firstborn after him now. Hopefully, he was still on the list for godfather.

*~*~*

For a place he once frequented regularly, the Hyperion had, as of late, started to feel less and less like home. It was another one of those things Spike supposed he could chalk up to the ever growing list of all things fucked up. But they had made a decision—there was a plan now. Kelly might not like it, but on some level he thought she understood. He hoped so. This wasn’t going to be a bloody picnic for any of them, but it’d go a lot farther if at least they were all cooperating.

It was likewise hard looking Zack Wright in the face sometimes, for that came with the burden of acknowledging how much things had changed between them. There had been that brief period the year before prior to all things around them going to Hell where Spike had had the opportunity to relive the hellish weeks in which Buffy was chained up at Wolfram and Hart. Where he remembered the very first true bond forged with another man—the man that had once been his best friend. That time for reflection hadn’t lasted, though; soon they were a house divided, pulled in a thousand different directions, leaving themselves scattered and incomplete. Coming around after the whole bloody ordeal with Zangy didn’t make sense, either, as good ole Wes seemed determined to land a stake in Zack’s heart.

Not that Spike could blame him, but he’d sure as shit stop him.

Spike inhaled deeply and stepped across the Hyperion threshold. Home sweet home. Once upon a time, he and Buffy had planned on planting roots here. Back before the night in Washington that changed everything. Though overall, Spike would do sod all to change where their lives had taken them, he did experience a hard pang of regret over the time lost with his once closest friend.

Cordelia sat in one of the lobby chairs, thumbing through an issue of People Magazine. When she looked up and saw him in the doorway, her expression went from bemused to panicked. “Oh, shit, what’s happening now?”

Spike chuckled and raised his hands. “Don’t—”

“Who lost a soul this time? Zack?”

“Still has it.”

“Buffy?”

“Can’t lose it.”

“Oh no. Kelly?”

“That’d be right frightening, but no.”

Cordelia paused, seeming to mull over the possibilities, then her jaw dropped in horror. “You! You lost your soul, didn’t you?”

He frowned. “I never had a soul.”

“I knew it!” She waited a second, then poked her tongue out and sat back. “I’m gonna guess by the lack of battle axes that everything’s cool. So what? Just dropping by?”

“Where’s your lesser half, ducks?”

She shrugged and resumed flipping through her magazine. “He should be back any minute. This is Wednesday.”

Spike didn’t follow. “He only comes back on Wednesdays?”

“I forgot how funny you aren’t.” She smirked. “Zack takes baby Kelly to see Grandma Melody on Wednesdays. Melody insists, though it makes Zack all kinds of uncomfortable, which is just an added bonus for me. But since grandma has the baby, yours truly is off mama duty for about four hours.” She cast a forlorn look to her midsection. “I still have about fifteen pounds of baby weight that won’t come off.”

Spike slid his hands into his duster pockets. “Wouldn’t know it to look at you.”

“Well, duh. No one lives in LA without learning how to hide their love handles.” Cordelia seemingly gave up on her magazine and tossed it aside. “So, no big evil to fight, no soulless relatives to hogtie…you just dropping in?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“’Cause you never drop in.”

“Isn’t showin’ up without an invite a show of bad manners?”

Her eyes narrowed. “When have you ever had good manners?”

“Oh that’s right. I am an inconsiderate asshole. Gotta remember to play that card more often.” Spike grinned and took a step forward. “Not stayin’ long, so don’t you worry your pretty little head. Just got something to share with Zangy.”

A throat cleared behind him just as a familiar scent hit his nostrils. “If you’re here for help with something, we’re closed,” Wright said.

Spike turned and favored him with a grin. “No wonder you lot have such a shining rep for customer service.”

“Be nice to him,” Cordelia chided from behind him. “My poor baby had a long night.”

He arched a brow. “Aimin’ for kid number two?”

Wright shuddered. “There is no fucking way I’m subjecting myself to this nightmare again.”

“What nightmare is that?”

“Parenthood.”

“Says the father of my nine month old,” Cordelia muttered. “Apparently, Rosalie and Nick were out at all hours and my darling not-husband can’t seem to understand that a slayer doesn’t keep regular people hours.” She snorted. “Honestly, Zack, you carted her all over the continent when she was a child, but now he’s suddenly Mr. Dad.”

“Hey.” Wright frowned. “I’ve been Mr. Dad for a while now. Rosalie deserves her education.”

“She’s the Slayer, mate,” Spike said softly. “Bein’ out and getting into scuffles goes with the territory.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Wright shook his head. “Look, I don’t want a lecture on how I’m fucking up as a parent right now, especially when I have to deal with that British asshole—”

“Oi!”

“—gawking at her every time she bends over. Fuck knows, you’d think Faith could keep him occupied.”

Cordelia snickered. “You’d know, wouldn’t you?”

Spike raised a hand. “We’re taking off.”

There was a pause. “Well,” Cordelia said. “That was random.”

“Who’s taking off?” Wright asked.

“The lot of us. Buffy, Zangy, and Kelly.”

Another pause. Wright shuffled his feet. “Is this for good?”

“No. Jus’ something we gotta do.” Spike did a good show of summoning a smile, but he didn’t feel it, and he figured it was obvious. “We’ve been in neutral too bloody long. Makin’ believe all this is normal. Pretending _we’re_ normal, we’re bloody fine, with all that happened. An’ it’s taking its toll. So we’re leaving. Getting back to basics.”

Cordelia and Wright exchanged a glance. “When?” the former asked.

“We’ll be gone tomorrow.”

“Short notice, much?”

“You taking the kids with you?” Wright asked.

Spike shook his head. “No, an’ Kelly’s not keen on that, but the tykes aren’t a part of the long haul. We already called Rupert and he said he an’ Melody would watch after them.”

“Good,” Cordelia said. “I’d offer, but with my loving not-husband screaming up a storm at all hours of the night—”

“For God’s sakes, woman, you didn’t see what I saw.”

“Yes, I did. I was right there beside you.” 

“I don’t like the way he looks at her.”

Cordelia shrugged. “It could be worse. Faith’s a hoebag and Buffy’s mated to…” She gestured at Spike. “Honestly, honey, Nicholas the Harmless Nerd Boy is probably the most decent guy she’s gonna meet. She could really fuck up and end up with a vampire…or worse.”

Spike smirked. “Thanks ever so.”

“Oh, come on. You weren’t exactly Mr. Nice Guy when we met.”

“I seem to remember when we met I was trying to tear your throat out.”

“Case in point.”

“You still hold that against me?”

“I think the fact that I’ve forgiven your attempted murder of my precious self speaks volumes for how crazy my life is.” Her expression softened. “Thanks for letting us know what’s going on.”

Spike nodded and cast a weary glance Wright’s way. “Try not to burn the city down without us.”

“We managed just fine for about ten years.”

“It only makes you _mostly_ a poofter if you admit you pined for me.”

“Oh, he pined,” Cordelia said. “He even spruced some nights.”

The men exchanged a glance, then looked at her.

“What?” she snapped. “I’m funny, dammit.”

Wright chuckled. “Whatever you say, sweetie.”

*~*~*

Up until twelve hours ago, Willow hadn’t been the sort of person who could gaze upon the face of a newborn babe and immediately identify which features were attributed to which parent. To her, babies looked more or less the same, their individual characteristics sharpening with time. Whether or not her son would have his father’s face had seemed inconsequential; she figured she wouldn’t see it until he was old enough that the wound had finally scabbed over.

Of course, when she first came to this conclusion, it had been some months ago when the idea of Sam standing beside her in the nursery wing was nothing more than a pipe dream, one she came closer to releasing as the days went by. Willow stood in the hospital hallway, wearing a loose pair of scrubs and a matching top with little half moons and brooms scattered about the pattern. She stared through a window pane at Samuel Osborne. Her son. Sam Seaborn’s son. And she could say without question the baby had his father’s eyes. Heck, Sammy Jr. had his father’s eyes, chin, and dimples. The only Willow-esque feature on the infant’s face was his nose. Well, his nose and the wisps of dark auburn hair swirled on his crown.

Her baby.

Willow crossed her arms. For the first time since giving birth, she was alone. Hermoine had graciously taken duty consoling Donna, whose mind was likely at war with itself. Ron, apparently having gone into some sort of PTSD at the whole birthing thing, was back at the hotel, sleeping off what he described as a horrible headache. Harry was still here somewhere, having assumed responsibility for contacting Hogwarts and letting _McGonagall_ know what had transpired.

Sam… Well, she didn’t know where Sam was, and perhaps that was for the best. 

Life was so strange. It seemed no time had passed since she sobbed her woes into a carton of ice cream, wailing over the loss that was Sam. She’d loved him. A part of her still did…well, a large part of her, if she were being honest. But Willow had traveled the road that was heartache a time too many. She’d lost Oz, she’d lost Tara—if Tara ever existed, and she’d lost Sam. She’d lost Sam because of what she was, and what that meant in terms of his ambitions. But she’d also been smacked with a healthy dose of reality upon returning to England. The knowledge she didn’t want to leave her position or her students. The warm familiarity of returning to the cottage she’d made her own. The friendships and relationships she’d forged, ones she didn’t think she could do without. In England, Willow had become something more than Buffy’s sidekick. She’d become her own person, established her own identity, and she didn’t want it to be lost in a man’s shadow.

But she also knew Sam was destined for bigger things. Perhaps Josh, in his own twisted, harmful way, had been right about that all along.

Willow sighed and rubbed her arms. Sam had offered, begrudgingly, to give her space. He had conceded after about an hour and a half’s worth of arguing that he needed to check in with his office, but swore on his life he’d return by nightfall. He’d also given Hermoine his contact information, as chances were Willow would be ready to check out before his schedule cleared.

Check out and face the world as new mom. With her baby boy, who looked the spitting image of his father.

“It’s brilliant, isn’t it?”

Willow didn’t turn to the owner of the voice. She merely licked her lips and nodded. “Which part?”

“All of it,” Harry whispered. “They’re these…little people. These little, innocent people who look at you like you’re something you know you’re not. And all you can do is hope you don’t bugger up their lives too terribly.”

A smile flirted with her lips. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Just trying to be realistic, here.”

“Try somewhere else. I need encouragement, not to be scared out of my mind.”

Harry chuckled. “No, that’s it, see. It’s good to be scared. Being scared means you know it’s important, what you’re doing. Means you know what’s at stake.” He went silent for a moment, then said, “And the dad?”

Willow caught her reflection’s eye in the glass for a brief second. She wasn’t sure she liked what she saw. “Gone.”

“He’ll be back.”

“I know.”

“He loves that kid.”

“I know.”

“And he loves you.” She felt, rather than saw Harry shrug. “Any idiot can see it, Willow. Whatever happened before, he wasn’t a part of that. Punishing him for the other blighter’s mistakes isn’t going to make you happy.”

Willow paused, then released a long sigh. “I’m not punishing him.”

“No?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“It’s called parenting. We have hats. On week five, you learn the secret handshake.”

“I love my life, Harry. I love England. I love teaching. I love Hogwarts. I love teaching at Hogwarts in England.” Willow focused on baby’s Sam’s nose; the one part of his face that was hers. “Sam is Washington. I’m not.”

*~*~*

Sam was exhausted as he stepped into his apartment. Though everything was exactly the same as when he saw it last, it seemed strange and unfamiliar. In just a few short hours, his entire perspective on the world had changed.

He had a son.

A smile spread across his face at the thought of that squirmy bundle of joy. He and Willow had made a beautiful baby boy. That was the best part of the crazy circus of his life. He was able to proudly call himself a father.

His situation with Willow was another issue all together. His smile faded to a frown as he made his way to the kitchen to find something to eat. They had hit it off so perfectly in the start, but months of bad blood likely blew his chances with her. But they had a child together and he was cautiously optimistic that Willow wasn’t the type of woman who would keep his son away just because she didn’t care about him anymore.

But how was he going to make this work? He had a career and potentially the presidency of the United States on the line and she had a prominent career and future as well. In England.

“Fuck,” he grumbled as he opened the fridge and removed a take-out container. After popping it in the microwave, he leaned against the counter and continued to think.

Maybe he could announce the existence of magic users on the House floor? At first people might call him crazy…but after they see the truth, he could be seen as a hero. He brought out a whole section of society that had been hidden away. Moms and dads, husbands and wives, living in secret for years. Now they could live and serve openly. Maybe then vampires could be exposed. The public would be made safer by knowing there really was a reason to be afraid of the dark.

Maybe Willow would marry him. Even if she lived in England, he could tell the world that his wife proudly lived her life as a practicing witch. She had saved the world more times than he could ever hope.

The ding of the microwave brought him back to reality. “What am I thinking?” he groaned.

Just as he had dumped his leftovers onto a plate, his phone rang. He had washed up and went into the office to announce that he was taking the next week off for personal reasons. Most staff had left it at that, but a few others had asked more questions. In the end, he had informed them he had come down with the flu and was going to need time to recuperate. It was a bold-faced lie, but it bought him the time he needed to figure things out.

“Hello?”

“Sam! Where are you? What’s going on? Is Donna with you? Is Willow okay? You have to understand that this wasn’t my fault! I was just trying to protect you and your career! Is Donna okay?”

Sam’s appetite immediately left him at the sound of Josh’s voice. “They’re all fine.” He couldn’t hide the cool anger in his tone.

“What about the baby? Did she have the baby?”

“ _Everyone_ in fine.”

Josh sighed. “Look Sam, you have to understand—”

Sam snapped. “I don’t have to do anything! You fucked with my life like it was all part of some stupid game! You were supposed to be my friend! My _best_ friend! Donna doesn’t want anything to do with you because she’s as disgusted with you as I am! Life isn’t always about politics, Josh. Some of us care more about friends and love and family then about who controls Congress.”

“Sam?”

“Oh and another thing…FUCK YOU!” With that, he ended the call and turned his phone to silent. Grabbing his food and a soda from the fridge, he was determined to eat a bite before he went back to check on his baby boy.

*~*~*

Donna’s head was pounding as she slowly regained consciousness. She had no idea where she was at, but could feel that she was laying on a feathery soft bed. “Oh. My. Gawd,” she groaned.

“Was beginning to wonder if I was a little too heavy with that spell.”

She recognized Hermione’s voice, but was unable to lift herself up to see her. Opening one eye, she saw something whizz by her head. “What the…?”

“Smidgeons,” the witch replied. “And I said hold on! I’m almost done.”

“Are you talking to me or the Smidgeons?”

“The owl. Obviously. You can lay there as long as you want. It’ll be a good ten minutes before you want to try and get up.”

“Did you drug me?”

“Goodness gracious no! But I did hex you. You were in hysterics and I thought a bit of rest would calm you down and help put the situation into some perspective. Okay, Smidge. It’s all done! Deliver this to Hogwarts. I enclosed a picture of baby Oz so that the kids can all see that Professor Rosenberg is coming back with a bouncing baby boy.”

Donna heard the owl make a little hoot before whizzing once more by her head. The silence that followed informed her that the bird was gone.

“So,” Hermione began. “Do you feel any better?”

“Am I still pregnant?”

“Well, I know I’m a witch, but I don’t think there’s any special way to shut that down.”

“Yesterday I was excited I was getting to meet you and Harry Potter. Now I’m having a baby with a man I can’t even trust to be around.”

“You forgot Ron. Don’t ever do that around him. He’s got a complex and once he gets started, it’s impossible to shut him up.”

“Hermione!” Donna whined.

The witch gave a short sigh. “Donna. You’re going to have a baby. You aren’t the first woman in history to end up pregnant from a sleazy flubberworm. And you aren’t going to be the last. You’re going to get up and go with me back to the hospital. You’re going to play with Oz and then have some dinner. Then, we’ll go get you some stuff from your apartment and you can stay with us until we go back home. Then, you will decide if you can stand to live with that pathetic excuse of a Muggle or if you need a place of your own. Merlin’s Beard, Ron would kill me, but you could even come back to The Burrow with us for a while if you can stand to leave your job.”

Donna forced herself to roll over and look at Hermione. “I think you may be my new best friend.”

“Definitely a step up from Josh Lyman in my opinion.”

“Are there any single wizards over there?”

Hermione smiled. “Well…Neville is available.”

“Fantastic.”

*~*~*

Lisa knew it was going to be a tough sell. Zack and Melody had both warned her that Zack Wright was the one in charge and he wasn’t too keen on bringing in new people to the group. “Look,” Lisa continued. “Like I said, I’m a registered nurse at the hospital. I have access to nearly anything you might need. Medicine, surgical equipment and supplies. I work down in the ER so it’s easy for me to bring you stuff.”

“Yeah….well…”

He obviously wasn’t convinced. Time for round two. “Plus, I’m good friends with Zack and Kelly. I grew up with both of them. I’d already be on the inside, but apparently Wolfram and Hart sent in a fake me that was a bitch who ended up marrying this Xander guy and having a demon spawn baby.”

“Okay?”

“Weren’t you impressed I know who Wolfram and Hart is?”

“I think they’re publically traded now.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Look, Melody told me that you were protective of your group, but I honestly think I’m a good fit. I can get medical supplies and do triage. I know about vamps and can keep you up to date if there’s any suspicious victims coming into the ER. I see it as a win-win situation.”

“What do you get out of this?”

She smiled. Though his arms were still folded in defiance, she knew he was beginning to crumble. “You know how on _The Matrix_ he was given the choice of taking the red pill or the blue pill. Well, I had that choice and I took the blue pill.”

“The blue pill was ignorance. The red pill was knowledge.”

“Whatever. I took the pill and now I know about this whole crazy world I never knew existed. Not only that, but that my childhood best friends are vampires. I mean come on! Even Louis Vitton can’t compete with that.”

A lovely brunette, approximately her age, came up and stood next to Zack Wright. “Please tell me you aren’t wearing Louis Vitton limited editions from his brand new line in metallic lilac?”

Lisa had to smile. There was nothing better than finding a girl who knew her heels. “The one and only.”

The other woman turned to Zack. “Give her anything she wants.”

He arched a brow. “She wants a job.”

The woman turned to her. “You’re hired!”

“Cordy!” Zack snapped. “You can’t hire somebody because she has on nice shoes.”

“What?” Cordy challenged. “She obviously has good taste. And if my eyes are correct, she wears a seven and a half and I totally want to wear those shoes.”

Lisa laughed. “I’ll let you borrow them for the weekend if I can have a job.”

“Then, it’s settled,” Cordy stated. “When can I borrow them?”

Lisa smiled. “You’re Cordelia, right?”

Cordy sent a dirty look to Zack. “It should be Cordelia _Wright_ , but somebody likes to beat around the bush.”

“Hey,” he said lowly. “We’re not doing this now.”

“Or ever, apparently.”

Lisa decided to take her chances. “So is Monday good or do you want me start sooner?”

Cordy looked at her. “What is it you do?”

“I’m a nurse.”

“Fantastic! We could really use someone with medical training. I hate having to bandage the guys up when they come in after a fight and Kelly has this little rash on her butt that I think is just diaper rash, but I wanted a second opinion before I treated it and Big Kelly is heading out of town. Can you start now?”

“Sure!”

“Not sure!” Zack growled. “I never said she was hired. And last time I checked, I was the one in charge.”

Cordy rolled her eyes. “If that’s what you want to believe. Well, hire her so she can give medical attention to your precious baby girl.”

“What’s wrong with Kelly?”

Lisa whirled around to see that four others had entered the room. Two very hot guys and two young women were sauntering over to them.

“Nothing, Rosalie,” Cordy assured. “Just some diaper rash. That will be treated as soon as your dad hires this nurse.”

“You’re a nurse?” The darker haired male spoke with such a lovely British accent.

“Mmm hmm.”

“Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Lisa recognized Faith the moment she saw her. She hadn’t changed over the past few months, but she definitely remembered her time in the hospital after Zack had killed her. “Maybe.”

She didn’t know if she should bring that up now that she was so close to getting the job.

“Guys, don’t leave so soon,” Cordy said to the others. “I think we should talk about what happened last night.”

“You mean this morning,” Zack snapped. “It was nearly daybreak when they came in.”

“Yeah…” the younger of the men began. “About that. I owe everyone an apology.”

“You do?” Everyone except Lisa asked in unison.

“Yes. See I’ve been doing some thinking and I believe that I’ve grown reckless and complacent here. With lack of a decent apocalypse, we’ve all been on autopilot and part of that has entailed me mixing my personal life with my professional responsibility as Rosalie’s Watcher.”

Zack folded his arms. “I get that you’re speaking English, but I’m not understanding a fucking thing you’re saying.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat. “The Hyperion is your home. And I’ve been disrespectful of your authority as an owner and a parent by conducting my personal transgressions in a manner that has been public to you and your family.”

Faith gave him a look. “What the fuck are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is that I think it would be best if I obtained a place of my own. That way my personal transgressions—”

“You mean screwing Faith,” the elder British man interpreted with a snicker.

“My personal transgressions,” he continued. “Don’t interfere with Zack trying to raise his two beautiful daughters.”

“I’m beautiful?” the girl called Rosalie asked.

“Are you hitting on my daughters?” Zack snapped.

“Considering your youngest has diaper rash, I think the kids are safe,” Cordy teased.

“So you’re moving out?” Faith asked.

“Yeah. I mean we would still both be able to handle Rosalie’s training. You from a more combative standpoint with the training facility here. I would handle more instruction of various educational elements she should take under consideration when doing her patrols.”

“The boring shit,” Rosalie clarified.

“The boring shit,” he agreed with a smile. “But it’s important boring shit. Also, Faith and I could alternate with patrolling with you until we decide you’re capable of going solo.”

“And no more catching you and Faith…” Cordy didn’t need to finish.

“No. Anything of a personal nature between Faith and I would take place somewhere other than the Hyperion.”

Faith cleared her throat. “Do I get a say in when and where I’m gonna get fucked?”

“I like this plan,” Zack declared. “When do you move out?”

“As soon as I can find a place.”

“Let’s get on it. I’ll even pay for the deposit. One less horny mouth to feed is fine by me. Is Faith going with you?”

“I’m standing right here,” Faith snapped. “And I make my own decisions.”

“I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t involve fucking and my daughter.”

“Dad!” Rosalie cried. “That’s just gross.”

“That was _not_ what I meant and everybody knows it.”

“Well,” the elder British man said. “Faith is quite the diverse individual.”

“I don’t screw minors,” Faith retorted.

“I’m seventeen. I think that makes me legal in California.”

“Then, let me clarify. I don’t screw girls named Rosalie Wright. Does that work for everyone?”

“Yes,” everyone agreed in unison.

Lisa wasn’t sure about the timing, but was feeling pretty awkward standing in the middle of a family discussion. “So does that mean I got the job?”

*~*~*

Willow couldn’t deny the warm rush that tickled her veins when she walked into the maternity ward and found Oz wrapped soundly in Sam's arms. For someone whose life had just been turned upside down, he didn’t look the part of a terrified father. Well, there was a good amount of fear in his eyes, but it was easily overshadowed by love and awe. It also went to confirm everything Harry had said earlier—the things she'd known were true even if she hadn't wanted to admit it then.

Sam Seaborn would follow his son to the ends of the earth. She couldn’t keep the child away from him with every trick in her considerably large book. Not that she would—Willow might be a lot of things, but she wasn’t heartless.

“Hey,” she said softly, closing the ward door behind her.

Sam looked up and offered a tired but happy smile. “Hey. Sorry, I was on my way to see you and I got distracted.”

“He's a natural charmer. I'll forgive you just this once.”

“He has your nose.”

“And your everything else.” Willow pursed her lips and moved forward. “I don't want to take a new daddy away from his son, but I think we should talk.”

He looked up sharply, sparks of hope flickering behind his eyes—all only serving to make her feel worse about herself. She had done a reasonable amount of thinking after Harry left her to her own devices, and she felt she had come to a sound solution for the time being. At least where Oz was concerned.

She couldn’t promise anything else right now.

“Okay,” Sam said. He quickly placed the baby back in its makeshift bassinette, then nodded and followed her out of the ward. She felt his eyes burrowing into her back during the trek to the room, and didn’t breathe easy until her hospital door was shut behind her. The silencing charm would take effect the second the latch clicked; she didn’t want to draw attention, and she wasn't sure how this conversation would go.

“I sent an owl to Professor McGonagall,” she said. Then, upon realizing the name likely meant nothing to Sam, clarified, “She's the Headmaster at Hogwarts.”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

“I'm guessing Harry did a little paper pushing, though when he had time, I don't know. Anyway, they are working on some charms to transform my office and home closets into Auto-Apparation pads.”

“Auto…huh?”

She offered a patient smile. “New charm the Ministry is coming up with. I can Apparate—disappear and reappear elsewhere—but I have to really concentrate. Since so many homes are broken now, we're constantly working on ways to ensure things like family visitations aren't neglected due to geography.”

“I have no idea what you're saying right now.”

“It needs some full-proofing,” Willow continued. “A-and I'll do it a couple times with the baby before I send him on his own. Basically. Auto-Apparation only works between two destinations, so we'll have to mystically bind the pads in my closets to one in yours.”

“What on earth are you saying?”

“I'm saying I've found a way for you to see the baby,” she snapped, way harsher than she intended. But damn, she couldn’t help herself. Her heart was thundering in her ears. “I didn’t even know about Auto-Apparation until Harry spoke with me earlier. Seems it's a precaution the Ministry has been working on for several years since He Who Must Not Be Named was defeated. In the event of another Dark Wizard, this charm serves as an escape hatch for those underage wizards who might not be able to side-along Apparate with someone older.”

When Sam failed to look enlightened, she rolled her eyes and snatched a pen from the bedside tray.

“See this?”

He nodded.

“Presto.”

The pen disappeared from her hand and reappeared in his. Sam shrieked and dropped it. Then he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he said. “You gotta warn me when you do that.”

“Well, that's how you're going to see Oz,” she said. “I'll place him on the Apparation-Pad after the safety charms have been enacted, and he'll appear on your side.”

“You're going…Willow, that's crazy!”

“That's the only way I can see this working,” she replied. “Really, if you have a better idea, please feel free. It comes down to me being in England and you being in California and that being one bitch of a commute.”

Sam stared at her for a long moment, then sighed and broke away, tearing a hand through his hair. “So you want to…hopscotch our baby across continents.”

“I don't want to, but now that you know—”

“And that was never in the plan, was it?” He turned back to her, his eyes less muddy—now bordering on angry. “You never wanted me to know.”

An angered thrill raced down her back. “No, that wasn't me. That was your friend.”

“I mean after that, Willow. You didn't exactly rush to tell me the baby was mine when we ran into each other.” He waved at the door. “You let me believe it was Harry Potter's.”

“No, you inferred it was Harry's. And what the heck was I supposed to say? You were there with your girlfriend!”

“She's not my girlfriend!”

Willow threw her hands in the air. “Like I knew that! You're in all the papers together. 'California Governor Cozy With GOP Analyst.' 'Governor Seaborn Seen With Ainsley Hayes at Blah Blah Blah.' 'Engagement Rumors'—”

“That was done to shut Josh up!”

“Yeah, well, it also made the woman carrying your baby think maybe an unplanned child might be an inconvenience on your budding social life!”

Sam's eyes darkened in that crazy hot way that used to drive her wild. “That is not fair and you know it!”

“Fine!” Willow screamed, the force alone of her exclamation sending her several inches off the ground. She stayed there, hovering, for a few seconds, if only because she enjoyed the look on Sam's face. “I wanted you to know, Sam. I did. You have no idea how much I wanted you to know. But I gave up because of Josh.”

Sam stared at her, panting hard. “Don't get me wrong,” he said slowly, “because I really hate Josh right now, but at some point it stops being about what he did and starts being about what you didn't do. He wasn't always there to babysit me, Willow. And yes I realize this is completely the opposite of what I told you before, but dammit…you could've come to me.”

She held his gaze as long as she could before breaking off with a hard sigh. “Yes,” she said at last. “I know.”

“And you didn't.”

“I know.”

“Were you ever going to let me know?”

Willow opened her mouth to assure him yes—of course, but realized she didn’t know if that was the answer. In all honesty, once she gave up hope of reaching Sam, her ambition to do so met a cold death. While she'd continued to tell herself she would do everything she could to eventually broach the mother of all uncomfortable subjects, a part of her had clung to the knowledge Sam wouldn’t suffer so long as he didn’t know. He couldn’t miss a child he didn’t realize he'd fathered, and the longer her pregnancy went, the more comfort she found in the thought of never having to face him.

There was a chance these musings had been hormone induced spouts of pregnant woman insanity. She didn't know, and she didn’t feel like shifting the blame right now.

“I don't know,” she said at last. “I wanted you to know but then it got all… _screwed up.”_

“Yeah,” he agreed, his tone hard.

“I never wanted you _not_ to know. I just knew this would be difficult, and I don't look forward to difficult things.” Willow sighed and planted her hands on her hips. “Look, we're messed up. I don't know if we'll never _not_ be messed up. My body is a train-wreck and my mind's not too much better. All I know is we have a son we both love, and jobs we can't walk away from.”

“I told you I'd give up—”

Willow sighed. “We don't even know how we feel about each other, Sam. Not really.” At the look on his face, she shook her head and held up a finger. “I know we felt we were in love once, but the people who fell in love were a Congressman and a Hogwarts professor, not the Governor of California and the…Hogwarts professor.”

Sam snickered.

“But there wasn't a baby then. There is now. And there wasn't a butt-load of hurt and deceit between us. All I had to worry about was you not noticing my charm to make peas taste like malt balls.”

“You can do that?” he asked, awed.

Willow ignored him. “All I'm saying is I changed a lot in the last nine months, and I'm willing to bet I'm not the only one.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn't change things.” Sam took a step forward. “I want to marry you, Willow.”

She laughed bitterly and turned away. “That won't fix anything. It'll just add paperwork to an already messy situation.”

“It'll get you as my wife. That's all I care about. You, me, and our son. Our Oz.”

“And you still want to run for president.”

Sam shook his head. “I don't need to. I can—”

“But you want to.” Her eyes narrowed. “I have Veritaserum, Sam. Truth telling potion? I'll use it on you if I have to get a straight answer.”

He was quiet a long moment, but she saw the answer in his eyes well before he said it. “I want to run for president,” he confirmed softly. “And I kinda hate you right now for making me say it.”

“Well, let me run down the docket for you. Mrs. Willow Seaborn—”

“I like the sound of that—”

“Teacher of Satanic texts—”

“Hey!”

“Bore the candidate a child out of wedlock. The couple weren't seen together again until the night of the child's birth. Mrs. Seaborn has many unorthodox ties, including several troubling accounts from Sunnydale, California—”

“Willow…”

“Where she helped an old high school librarian, two Sunnydale University students, and another man infiltrate and destroy a government agency.” She paused when Sam looked at her aghast. “The Initiative. They were kidnapping vamps, wolves, and other creatures to run tests.”

“Well—”

“And she was the longtime lover of one Tara Maclay, whose body was last seen in Mrs. Seaborn's arms.”

Sam blinked. “You dated a guy named Tara?”

Willow laughed bitterly. “No. I did not date a _guy_ named Tara.” She waited for the statement to sink in. “At least, if she was real. The jury's still out on that. But regardless, I was very much in love _with a woman_ for three years. If she were still here, _we_ wouldn't be here. Do you understand?”

He nodded shakily.

“But we are here,” she said, sighing. “That doesn't mean I didn't love you, Sam. I did. I loved you a lot. Tara…if she existed, was my only…but I loved her, too. If any information on her is real, then they'll dig it up. I would refuse to say she was a fling or didn’t mean anything to me, because she wasn't and she did. And she died in my arms. Shot.” She broke off, a hard rush of post-partum hormones surging through her tired body. “Anyway, that sums it up. Satanist. Anarchist. Dyke. Did I leave anything off? I'm sure I could dig up some more skeletons. Doesn't look good on a presidential candidate's resume. I seem to remember there being some hoopla about Abby Bartlet and a Ouija board, and that stuff wasn't true. Imagine what the Right would say about me.”

Sam seemed to have recovered, his jaw hardening with resolve. “Imagine how little I care! Willow—”

“I'm sorry. I won't keep you from your child, Sam, and I won't keep you from what you want to do.” She spread her arms. “Different time, different place. If I wasn't…but I am, and that's the way it is.” 

“Willow…”

“I've also asked Professor McGonagall for an extended leave of absence,” she continued. “At least until I'm satisfied the Apparation-Pad works. I'm going to ask Hermione to come with me to California, but I don't know if she will.”

He gave her one of those long looks that spoke plainly he knew he was defeated. “Will you at least stay with me?”

Willow's throat tightened. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“I just don't. I'm sorry.” She shook her head and ran a hand through her red hair. “I'm, ahh, gonna go check on the baby.”

She hurried back to the maternity ward before he could get in another word edgewise.


	9. Chapter 9

“I have a favor to ask of you.”

Faith glanced up just as she landed a final blow to her punching bag, which sent it rocking nearly hard enough to snap the chain from which it dangled. She had retreated to the basement to work out some kinks, namely the muscle Hunter had pulled after he rolled her out of bed the night before. Wright was currently up with Hunter, looking over the available apartments and had already promised tours to three landlords. Didn’t matter what the place looked like so long as the new-blood Watcher was far away from big daddy's baby girl.

She couldn’t help but smirk at the thought. Hunter's intuition had been on the money. Move his lecherous, jailbait-craving ass out of Dodge and Rosalie's training would become easy peasy. Though she knew Wright didn’t particularly like her, she understood the man trusted her with his kid.

That sort of confidence was heady. She still hadn’t gotten used to being seen as someone valuable.

“Yeah,” she said at last, picking up a towel off the floor and burying her face in it. “What's up, Wes?”

Wesley stood at the top of the staircase, as a pensive look on his face. “You heard about Spike's visit.”

Faith flickered her brows and dabbed sweat off her forehead. “Umm, yeah,” she replied. “I was in the same meeting as you, wasn't I?”

“Wright said the whole…all of them are going to drop by tomorrow night. That…” He broke, his face twisting into a mask of fury—a brief one, granted, but one specific enough that Faith knew where his thoughts had led. _“Zack_ can't go out without the ring, obviously, and this is the best place to meet Melody.”

Faith pursed her lips and nodded slowly. “Yeah…”

“I need you to stick close to me.”

“Close.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“How close?”

Wes stared at her for a long moment, then broke off with a sigh. “I'm trying, Faith. I really am. These past few months have been bloody hell on me, and I know I'm not the only one but in many ways I feel like it. And Zack…well, let's just say a very real part of me still wants to see him dust.”

Faith shrugged. That seemed natural enough. In truth, Wes's demeanor had improved by leaps and bounds since she had to wrestle him to the ground and knock Wright's crossbow out of his arms. There was a time there for a while she didn’t think he'd recover—a time where she'd wondered, however briefly, if Buffy's newfound family loyalty would demand Wes's blood to save Zack's.

B sure wasn't the girl she once was.

“Think it'd be weirder if you didn't,” she said. “Wanna see him dust, that is.”

Wes released a shaky breath. “I don’t want to undo the progress I've made,” he said. “But at the same time I haven’t had to be around him—look at him—in a long bloody time. If you could just…stick close to me—”

“So you don’t blow your cool?”

“Or something like it.” He looked her square in the eye. “You've been a good friend to me, Faith. And you're the only one here strong enough to do it.”

She snorted. “Just don't tell Wright that.”

“Wright has the strength,” Wesley said, “but not the understanding.”

“The fuck does that mean? Wasn’t his wife—”

“Killed. Yes, I know. But not by a friend. And he sees Zack as a brother, or wants to enough that our situations are different.” Wesley exhaled again. “Will you help me, Faith?”

“Yeah, yeah, Princess Leia. I get it. I'm your only hope.”

“Pretty much.”

“And what kind of Jedi would I be…”

He frowned, then barked a laugh. “Jedi? That's one Star Wars reference too many for you. You _have_ been hanging out with Nick too much.”

“You have _no_ idea,” Faith deadpanned.

*~*~*

“Well,” Buffy said as she zipped up the final suitcase. “That's everything.” She let out a breath, then turned to face her husband. His packing had been on the meager side. Really, Spike only had two or three shirts—all other items in his wardrobe were just duplicates of the same item. “What do you think?”

“You pack a mean suitcase, love.”

She scrunched up her nose. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, and I'm still trying to suss out exactly which wire in that pretty little head of yours is loose.”

“You're talking a lot like a guy who's not going to get laid tonight.”

He smirked, looking particularly threatened. “You're the one who asked me to shag her at three in the bloody morning because you couldn’t get to sleep.”

“I was wide-awake!”

“So I'm your Ambien. Nice to know we've gotten to that place in our marriage.”

This time she stuck her tongue out at him, which only earned another chuckle. “Mississippi sounds like a bloody nightmare, love,” he said. “But somewhere nice and secluded enough so's we won't get interrupted.”

“That's all I was looking for.”

“Why didn't you say so?”

She took a pillow off the bed and chucked it at his head. He leaned to the side so it crashed at the wall behind him.

“You're doing this on purpose,” she accused.

“Doing what?”

“Being annoying.”

“You wound me, Slayer.”

“Bite me, vampire.”

“And here I thought I wasn't getting laid.”

She chucked another pillow—this one landed its target. “Haha!” she yelped, throwing her hands up in triumph and busting out into a small victory dance. The next thing she knew, she was in her husband's arms and he had stolen a kiss off her smiling lips.

Buffy glared up at him after he pulled away, but she didn’t have it in her to continue her fake outrage. Instead, she released a contented sigh and snuggled into his embrace. “Thank you,” she said.

Spike's hand came up to her nape, stroking gently. “What for, sweets?”

“All of this. We really need it.”

“Yeah.”

“And you'll be great.”

“Wish I had your confidence, love.”

“You can later tonight.”

“So I _am_ getting laid?”

Buffy smirked and looked at him, then leaned up on her tiptoes to brush another kiss across his lips, this one lingering. “You'll probably find some way to charm yourself into my pants.”

He grinned. “Who, me?”

“But first…”

“Yes?”

_“You_ have to tell Zack and Kelly where we're going.”

Spike's face fell. “What? You're the one who—”

“And you're the leader.”

“You're the Slayer.”

“And I'm the owner of the vagina you want to plant your flag in tonight.”

“You make a fair point. I'll be right back.” He grinned and planted another kiss on her brow. “And keep your knickers on. You know how much I love to take them off.”

  
*~*~*

Josh hazarded another glance at his phone. It had been nearly twenty four hours since he had last heard from Donna. It didn’t take a political genius to figure out that she was avoiding him. That didn’t mean he had to take it. Twelve voicemails and 43 text messages later and she was still holding out.

He hated the silent treatment.

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the Republican Congressional budget proposals. He was depressed to think about the idea that Republicans made more sense to him currently that his fiancée.

Josh didn’t look up when the door to his office opened. It was getting late and he figured his assistant was ready to clock out and head home. “It’s fine,” he said in way of greeting. “Just leave me the memo from State so that I can get some notes together to brief the President in the morning.”

“Well, if I had the memo from State, I wouldn’t really need to bother with your notes,” the President responded.

“Mr. President!” Josh stammered, jumping to his feet. “My apologies.” Josh looked up and saw the First Lady was also in attendance. And she didn’t look pleased as her arms were tightly crossed and she was glaring at him. “And…Lady Santos.”

“What did you do?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry?”

“Did you not hear me?”

Oh shit. “Yes, ma’am. I’ve just done a lot of things today and can’t really distinguish which one I’m in trouble for.” He looked to Santos. “Help?”

President Santos laughed and shook his head. “No way. You’re on your own for this. I just came to watch.”

“Let me _refresh_ your memory,” Lady Santos began. “This particular event resulted in my Chief of Staff calling me _in tears_ to inform me of her resignation. She said that due to several personal matters, she didn’t think she would be able to fulfill her duties and that she needed to focus on figuring out what she’s going to do with her life.”

“She what?” Josh was dumbfounded. “That’s absurd!”

“Now you want to tell me what the _hell_ you did?”

“Lady Santos, with all due respect—”

“Josh,” the woman balked. “Screw the respect. What happened?”

Sinking into his chair he banged his head on the desk. “This cannot be happening.”

“Josh?” the President questioned.

“She’s punishing me,” Josh murmured into the wood. “She’s trying to kill me.”

“Did you cheat on her?” Lady Santos inquired.

Josh looked up in wide-eyed horror. “No! No! Why would you….No!”

“Good,” the president declared with relief. He looked to his wife. “Told ya so.”

“Well, then what?” she demanded once more.

With a sigh, he looked back to his desk and contemplated banging his head again. “I made a mistake. A huge mistake.”

“That isn’t anything new,” Santos chided.

“Matt!” his wife admonished. It didn’t help that she was laughing. “Let him tell it!”

Josh groaned and ran his hands through his hair. “I broke up two people that were happy together…really perfect for each other. Then, I kinda sorta maybe prevented her from telling him she was pregnant.”

“My God!” Lady Santos gasped.

“Damn,” the president responded.

“But I didn’t know she was pregnant at the time! And I only did it because I loved him and knew that she wasn’t good for him. Seriously, she’s a cargo container full of baggage and he’s gonna be frickin’ President of the United States!”

“Well, at least I know who we’re talking about now,” Santos stated.

“Who?” asked his wife.

“Sam Seaborn.” He looked back to Josh “Is this Ainsley?”

“No,” Josh said with a shake of his head. “Ainsely was supposed to be the answer to my problems, but…yeah….fail.”

The First Lady folded her arms and glared at him. “Well, how are you going to fix this?”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t know…” He looked to his phone. “She won’t take my calls. Sam won’t speak to me, which I get. I know I was a complete ass, but I don’t get why Donna won’t talk to me.”

“Trust,” Lady Santos stated. “You broke her trust. You put the political game above…human decency, Josh. You played with people’s personal lives. And if I were Donna, I’d be wondering what else you’ve done…or what you might do to put someone’s political career ahead of what’s right.”

“I…” Josh was at a loss. He knew he a jackass, but that made him sound almost evil. “I didn’t do it out of greed. I did it because I thought it was best for Sam. Not just his _career_ , but for him as a man. The woman’s a fucking witch for Christ sake!”

“Josh!” President Santos snapped. “Just because you don’t like her—”

“I like her! I mean she’s literally a spell-casting, flying on a broom-stick, using a magic wand _witch_ …Sir.”

“Oh puh-lease,” Lady Santos snickered with an eye-roll. “Like we’re honestly supposed to believe that there are witches out there?”

President Santo’s cleared his throat. “Actually…”

Her eyes went wide. “Are you serious, Matt?”

“I’m not particularly at liberty to discuss issues of this level on national security with you, but…let’s just say that most of those things you thought were make-believe are real.”

“Wow…” Lady Santos stared off into space.

Josh sighed. “So, there it is.”

The President gave a sympathetic smile. “I know you, Josh Lyman. I believe you had your heart in the right place, but you were wrong.”

“I know.”

“Well, it seems to me you need to prove it to your fiancée.”

“Yes, Sir.”

*~*~*

Zack couldn't help but feel guilty as he watched Kelly tearfully embrace Rosie and William for the hundredth time since she'd brought them home from school and informed them of the situation. While logic told him this journey was about more than him and his soulless episode, he knew none of this would be happening if he had just killed himself when he had the chance all those months ago. He'd be out of the equation and Kelly and the others could have already moved on.

That’s what he told himself at least.

Life had been so much easier a year ago. He looked fondly back at the days when his biggest problems were dealing with sire issues and a long lost brother who had happened to be his best friend’s long lost best friend.

Granted, that second part was kinda related to Wolfram and Hart. And that was completely related to the whole soulless episode they were dealing with now.

Zack didn't want to intrude on his wife's last moments alone with her babies…but he wanted a chance to bid farewell and ask for forgiveness once more from the two souls that forgave him first the last time he hurt them. William, on cue, saw his father lurking and broke from his mother's embrace. “Are you leaving, too?” his son asked as he ran to Zack.

“Yeah, we're taking a bit of trip.”

”Why?” The young man questioned.

“Well…” What was he supposed to say? _Because we're all fucked up and plan on being around way after you're dead._ “Mom and I are going to get a few lessons from Uncle Spike on what it takes to be a vampire.”

Rosie, who along with Kelly, had been unabashedly listening in, commented. “That makes no sense. You've been vampires for years. You drink blood, stay inside without a ring during the day, always look young and pretty and ask me every morning if your hair looks good because you lack a reflection.”

“That's what we thought, too,” Kelly admitted. 

“So you're going to go learn to be vampires?” Rosie inquired. “What does that mean? Are you going to go kill things?”

Zack looked to his wife. Kelly was looking up at him for answers just like the kids. “I…I don't think we're going to kill anyone.” What did he just say? “No. We are not going to kill anyone…but we might hunt animals…and learn about fighting and urges and stuff.”

“What's an urge?” William asked.

“Do you mean urges to kill things?” Rosie inquired.

“Do you have urges to kill people, Zack?” Kelly asked.

“No!” Zack bellowed. “I mean yes, Rosie…I think vampires have strange urges for hunting and fighting.” And sex and blood. “And we also have to deal with living in a vampire kinda family.”

“What's an urge?” William asked again.

“I'll tell you later,” Rosie promised. Then she looked back to her parents. “You mean an order. The Order of Aurelius. That's what you guys are a part of now because Uncle Spike sired Dad and sired Aunt Buffy who sired Mom.”

Zack blinked and then looked to his wife. “We really need to address what she reads at some point.” Kelly gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. “Seriously, she can't know more about us than us, can she?”

“Obviously, I do,” Rosie responded with a dramatic eye-roll. 

Zack enjoyed moments when he was able to get the kids with his superhuman reflexes. In an instant he grabbed his daughter and was dangling her by her ankles. “Dad!” she cried, failing to hide the laughter in her voice.

“Oh, I see…someone forgot about vampires and their speed and agility. Didn’t you read that in a book?” He looked at William and gave him a wink and a smile. “And don't think you're off the hook, Mr. Morris. Let this be a lesson to what happens when you sass your parents.” 

William cackled and pointed to his sister. “Sucks to be you!”

“Zack, let her down,” Kelly berated through a stream of giggles. 

“Yes, ma'am,” Zack responded to his wife, playfully tossing his daughter on the sofa. 

“Now you two better go finish getting your bags together for Nana's house,” Kelly said to the children. 

The kids quickly scampered down the hallway. 

Zack made his way to the deck, which sat off from the kitchen. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, giving him a chance to escape from the indoors. Digging in his back pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He assumed Kelly needed a bit more time to adjust to the fact this was the last night she would have with her children for a while.

Zack turned to face Kelly as she made her way out on the patio deck. “Aren’t you going to help them finish up?”

She shook her head and walked right up next to him. Then, to his shock, she reached up and took the lit cigarette from his fingers and brought it to her lips. “Didn’t you say you hated those things?” Zack inquired.

She shrugged and took another drag. “I need something right now and this is closer than the bottle of rum.”

Zack nodded and lit himself another smoke. Anytime his wife did a “bad girl” move, he had to fight the desire to jump her bones. Swallowing hard, he looked off at the city skyline, trying to control his libido. “Yup,” he responded.

The silence stretched between them for a few moments, but Zack noticed the fact she hadn’t pulled away from his side. “So,” Kelly said at last. “Do you think this is the right idea?”

“Do you wish I was dead?” The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to process them.

“No,” she instantly replied.

He looked at her in wide-eyed amazement. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Why?” He didn’t know why he was pressing the issue _now_.

“Because…” She pulled away and went to the edge of the deck. “Because I figure it would be harder to live without you than it is to live with you.” She puffed on her cigarette once more.

“The kids deserve to have a mother and a father.”

“But they’re losing their mother. Because of me.”

“This was going to happen, Zack. Sometime we were going to figure out that we couldn’t pretend to be normal parents on a new liquid diet. We were going to have to come to terms with the fact that we aren’t humans anymore.”

“Then why ask if this is the right idea?”

“Because I don’t want to leave our kids, you dumbass!”

He had to smile. She had said _our_ kids. He liked hearing it. “Well, Spike and Buffy are in the hallway and the kids are packed and ready to go. Doesn’t look like we have a choice. Basically, you and I are being vamp-napped.”

Kelly put out her smoke and looked to her husband. “Luckily, I won’t have to ride in the trunk come dawn.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

*~*~*

“This idea is absolute rubbish.”

“Ronald,” his wife berated with an eye-roll. She had a bad feeling about bringing him along, but he’d been insistent. “I explained it all to you.”

“I know, Hermione. That’s why I said this idea is complete rubbish.”

“This is the way Donna wants it done.”

Ron looked at the door and then back at his wife. “She does understand that we know magic, right?”

“Of course.”

“So, she gets that we could be in this flat and out before this bloke comes home?” Currently, they were both standing outside of Josh and Donna’s apartment. 

“She wanted me to deliver the message.”

“And she understands that paper isn’t even magic? It’s just a nice way to deliver a bloody message.”

“Ron,” she admonished.

He pouted and folded his arms. “I’m just saying. We could be done here before this Lyman wanker ever got home.”

At that moment, a throat cleared behind them. “Can I help you?”

Ron and Hermione turned around to see Josh standing before them. “Hey, speaking of that Lyman wanker…” Ron responded.

“Yeah, remind me again how we kicked your guy’s asses back in the Revolutionary War?”

“The what war?” Ron asked in bewilderment.

Josh looked to Hermione. “Is he serious?”

She shrugged and smiled. “Muggle history and wizard history rarely overlap. The first real known alliance between British and American wizards was in 1823 when we helped you guys out with a bad mess somewhere around your Rocky Mountains.”

“So…yeah,” Ron declared.

Josh shook his head and pushed passed the couple to get to his door. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yeah, well at least my wife isn’t leaving me, mate.”

Josh stopped and turned to Hermione. “That’s why you’re here?”

“Well…this isn’t _exactly_ how Donna had planned the situation, but yes.” She gave a furious look to her husband. “Donna has decided that she needs some time away from—”

“Me,” Josh flatly injected.

“Washington,” Hermione finished. “She’s requested that I come and collect her personal items so that she will be able to travel with us once Samuel is out of the hospital.”

“Sam’s in the hospital?”

“Well, it’s the typical thing for the first couple days after a baby is born.”

“What did you do to him? He was fine when I saw him! Did Willow curse him? He really didn’t know anything about the baby!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Samuel is the name of the baby.”

“Oh,” Josh said meekly.

Ron snickered. “And you called me an idiot?”

“You know, you’re always gonna be Harry Potter’s lame sidekick, right?”

Ron’s face turned as red as his hair. “I’m gonna curse him, love.” He reached in his back pocket and extracted his wand.

Hermione took hold of her husband’s wand. “He’s not worth the penalty from the Ministry.”

“Oh, yes he is.”

“Is he worth facing Willow…or me?”

Ron’s shoulders slumped. “Let’s get this over with.”

Josh turned back around to unlock and open his door. “Yeah.”

“Look,” Hermione began hesitantly. “Donna knew this was going to be hard. That’s why she asked me to be the one to come and do it.”

The American gave her a skeptical glance. “And why did you bring him?”

“Oy!” Ron shouted.

“Because he’s my husband.” Her voice wasn’t as friendly as before.

“Well…whatever,” Josh grumbled.

“Ron,” Hermione said as she turned to her husband. “Do you wish to begin the process of gathering her belongings?”

“Girl stuff? Really, love?”

“Or keep Josh company?”

“I’m saving the knickers for you.” With that, he took off toward the bedroom.

Josh walked over to the sofa and flopped down. “So, this is how she’s breaking up? Did she send back the ring? What’s she gonna do? Go to Hogwarts and become a teacher’s aid?”

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look as she sat down next to him. “She’s not breaking up with you…”

“What is it then?”

“A separation. She needs some time to come to terms with what you did.” She gave him a skeptical glance. “You _do_ realize that you were an unethical and…downright wanker.”

“Yeah.”

Hermione nodded and stood up. “Love can withstand almost anything.”

“Almost?”

She smiled. “If you and Donna are truly in love, you’ll overcome this. In the meantime, you need to think about the priorities in your life. Where does your career stand against her and against your friends?”

“I didn’t do this for my career,” Josh hotly retorted.

“Maybe not, but I bet it wasn’t far from your mind.” His silence spoke volumes. “Actions speak louder than words. If you love her…if you are sorry…show it.”

“How?”

“First, give her this break. Let her know that you love her and that’ll you’ll be there when she comes back.”

He nodded, tears filling his eyes. “Tell her I love her. And that I’m sorry.”

“I will,” Hermione vowed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must collect your fiancée’s knickers.”

*~*~*

Rosalie ignored all the bustle going on around her. She was snuggled up on the sofa with her baby sister as her mom and everyone else hurried about getting ready for Rosie, William and the goodbye vampire party.

She had to admit, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing her Uncle Zack. She hadn’t spoken to him after her attacked her that night. She’d seen him in passing one time when she went over to their apartment to drop off some stuff for Kelly. He’d seen her and turned around and headed straight to his room. That was fine by her. While she understood that “normal” Zack wouldn’t have brutally violated her, that didn’t mean she liked the idea of being around the body of the guy who had brutally violated her.

“This sucks,” Faith huffed as she launched herself down next to the girls. “With B and the Vamp Gang leaving Dodge, that means that those two little kids are gonna be here all the fucking time.” The brunette sighed. “Seriously, I hate kids.”

Rosalie laughed as she sat there holding a kid.

Faith caught herself. “I mean…except this one. Right Little K?”

Baby Kelly took her stuffed monkey and threw it at Faith’s head.

“Nope,” Faith declared. “Seriously, I hate kids.”

Rosalie giggled as she handed the monkey back to her sister. “I don’t really mind them. For some reason, I always got along with kids. They can be annoying as hell, but they’re honest. They don’t try to be something they aren’t. And they ask a lot of questions because they want to learn, not because they’re nosy.”

At the same moment, both women caught wind of Baby Kelly’s diaper. “Still like kids?” Faith asked.

“Well, this really isn’t my favorite part,” Rosalie admitted.

“Hello, ladies!” Nick chirped as he sauntered over and wedged himself down between Rosalie and Faith. “How are my three favorite girls in the world?”

Faith cocked a brow. “What the fuck got slipped in your Kool-Aid?”

“Nothing,” he stated as he held his arms out to Kelly. Instantly, the little girl leaned over and reached out for him. Cordelia often teased that Nick was Kelly’s boyfriend. Obviously, her father wasn’t a fan of the idea.

“So what’s up?” Rosalie asked as she relinquished control of her sister. That just meant he’d get to change the diaper.

“After a long search with your father…did I mention _long_? I believe we found the perfect spot. I was thinking that while all this fun was going on, the three of us could sneak on over and have a bit of a peek.”

The elder Slayer snickered. “You think that they’re gonna be there showing the place tonight?”

He gave a mischievous grin to Kelly. “Not exactly, but I figure it’s time that we teach Rosalie a bit about being resourceful.”

Rosalie gave him a look. “Are you honestly talking about Breaking and Entering? I thought you were supposed to be my moral authority?”

“Yeah,” Faith teased. “How am I supposed to be the fun cop if you come up with the cool ideas?”

“Honey, I have a feeling that even if I took Rosalie out, got her sloshed and introduced her to Hayden Christiansen, you would still be the fun cop.”

“Damn right,” Faith declared proudly.

Nick wrinkled his nose. “Please tell me that’s her nappy and one of you didn’t just make that smell.”

Rosalie folded her arms and gave him a smug look. “You’re the one holding her.”

He gave her a dirty look. She couldn’t help noticing that he couldn’t keep the mirth out of his eyes. “You’re a wicked woman, Rosalie Wright.”

“Another reason I’m the fun cop,” Faith teased.

“So?” Nick asked. “What’s say I change this adorable girl’s disgusting little buttocks and then we head out on the town?”

“I’m in!” How could Rosalie turn down this offer?

“I…” Faith hesitated. Rosalie and Nick shared a confused look before turning their gaze to the brunette Slayer.

“Sneaking around and breaking the law,” Nick reminded.

“Being the fun cop,” Rosalie added.

“I know.” Faith looked around the room. “It’s just…I thought that I’d watch the show.”

Rosalie was skeptical. “You just told me that the show sucked.”

“It does,” Faith said with a nod. “It’s just…you know…”

“Not really,” Nick stated.

“Are you gonna change that kid or what? God, that smell’s about to make me hurl.”

“Okay…” Nick gave Rosalie one last look of bewilderment before getting up and heading off with Kelly.

“Faith?”

“Look, between you and me…I just think it might be best if we stuck around.”

“Why?”

“Well, tensions are gonna be high and I wouldn’t want anyone getting killed while I wasn’t here to watch.”

Rosalie caught that Faith’s gaze flickered over toward where Wesley was standing and talking to Gunn. “Okay…gotcha.”

“Every now and again, it’s good to play it safe.”

“Wow…never thought I’d hear you say the phrase ‘play it safe’.”

Faith gave her a dark look. “Don’t push it.”

“I’m just saying your status as the fun cop is coming into question.”

“Well, you’re status as alive is about to come into question.”

Rosalie smiled. “Excuse me while I go find someone who believes that bullshit.”

“Hey!” Faith chuckled. “Somebody is turning into quite the little wiseass.”

“What can I say? I have a pretty damn good teacher.”

*~*~*

When Wesley had approached Faith to fill the order of support system for the evening, it had been mostly for show. The need to appear open and forgiving, deliver his lines as the recovering rage-fueled man who had stormed across town to end the life of a leech who didn’t deserve another moment of air. He needed to look the part of someone who wanted to get better, who wanted to overcome his rage and hatred. He needed to look the part of someone not bent on revenge.

Still, Wesley found himself surprisingly comforted by Faith’s steadfast presence. Perhaps he was still somewhat surprised by the woman she’d become, too often confusing her for the memories of the girl he’d known a lifetime ago. While many aspects of that girl remained—often when confronted by people who tried to assume authority over her—the hardheaded defiance had matured into wisdom and insight. Shades of the person he thought she could be, had always wanted her to be.

It was hard to reconcile her with the girl who had, not too many years ago, tied him to a chair and all but tortured him blind. The mess that Angel had comforted in the alley outside, the crying slayer he’d refused to kill, had somehow blossomed into something beyond either of their predictions.

She’d become a staple of the Hyperion. An invaluable member of the Wright household, and Rosalie’s surrogate big sister.

And right now, she was the only person keeping him from tearing across the hotel lobby floor to bash in the brains of the man who had killed Fred.

Who had killed Fred while standing maybe a foot or two from where he was now.

Oh, he knew Spike or Buffy or Kelly or Wright would get in his way, were he to try something. They kept shooting him looks he wasn’t supposed to see—him and each other, silently communicating the order of events should Wesley move a foot out of line. If Wesley so much as blinked in a way they didn’t like, he fully expected to be sent to his room without supper. It was only Faith who had any sort of understanding, who didn’t cast him judgmental glares. Who seemed to empathize. Who seemed to give any kind of shit about what he was going through.

Wesley shifted his attention back to Zack, or perhaps it hadn’t left. The monster hadn’t looked in his direction much, but Wesley didn’t need to see his eyes to know the vamp’s mood had improved by leaps and bounds since he last dropped in. The weight that had once seemed permanently situated on his shoulders had faded. He looked almost like he didn’t hate every cell in his own undead body. Almost as though he felt some shade of hope, like he could see the day beyond tomorrow.

And he had the nerve to look that way while standing so close to the spot where Fred had taken her last breath.

“And William right now is really into the _Lion King_ ,” Kelly was saying, her movements not nearly as relaxed as her husband’s. She looked seconds from bursting into tears, and her hands kept jerking from child to child to fuss with something Wesley guessed only she could see. “And Rosie is not allowed anywhere near the _Index of the Undead_ , no matter what she says.”

“Mom!”

“She tells stories to William,” Zack informed Cordelia, looking rather smug and proud as he spoke. “So unless you want him screaming and wetting the bed in the middle of the night—”

“I won’t tell William!”

“Yeah.” Zack laughed. “That’s what you’ve managed to convince your mom…how many times now?”

Kelly fidgeted. “She’s very convincing.”

Cordelia appraised Rosie with a long look. “Aren’t you a little young to be reading those books, anyway?”

“Aren’t you a little old to be wearing Sesame Street pajamas?” the girl countered.

Beside him, Faith chuckled. “Damn. Girl has a set of brass balls.”

Wesley’s lips twitched but he didn’t respond. In truth, the girl had always impressed him. Even in the midst of a more-than-troubled childhood, she’d managed to take everything in stride without being too dramatically shaped by the events around her. Her surrogate uncle had tried to murder the lot of them well before her father had lost his soul. Other children would cower simply in being anywhere near the adult men in her life. Instead, Rosie Morris looked with something similar to adoration at Spike and Zack, even if she was getting old enough to smart off to both of them.

Still, Wesley didn’t care he was going to deprive that impressive young girl of her father. Eventually, when she was older, she would understand.

“You know what?” Faith stage-whispered. “I just realized something.”

Wesley turned to her. “What’s that?”

“I’ve had sex with half the men in this room.”

Wesley blinked and took a look around. Hunter was beside Rosalie, the two of them talking about something or other. Wright stood near Cordelia, the latter of whom was scolding Rosie for her pajamas comment. Gunn was off in the office, and though Wesley wasn’t sure if he counted, smart money said Faith would’ve taken the demon hunter out for a ride or two.

Indeed, the only men he knew for certain she hadn’t bedded were Giles, Spike, and himself.

Of course, Zack himself was also on the list of Faith’s conquests. Something not lost on Wesley, especially when Kelly broke from her stupor to aim a particularly nasty glare in Faith’s direction. Zack himself seemed at once a little self-conscious.

“Oh shit,” Faith whispered, her tone crackling with laughter. “I think she heard me.”

“Vampire hearing has foiled many a plan,” Wesley agreed, but he couldn’t help but feel a little superior himself. “We could always test it. Say something about his prowess in bed.”

Faith snickered. “We didn’t exactly make it to a bed. How about his prowess against-a-wall?”

That comment earned a sharp glare from Buffy, who didn’t look nearly as amused as Wesley suddenly felt. At once, he couldn’t contain himself, and began giggling like a kid caught making faces in church.

Zack looked about as close to blushing as a vampire could get, which didn’t aid the cause.

“Uh-oh. I’m in trouble,” Faith drawled, though her tone was freckled with laughter as well. “Time to make a discreet exit.”

Wesley found himself following her as they made themselves scarce in an incredibly obnoxious, obvious way. Not even Hunter could resist throwing them an accusatory glare at childish antics, and that look was all Wes needed to crack himself up again.

Faith managed to guide Wesley up the stairs, though they both made as much noise as possible. Once, though, they were safely behind a closed door, a swell of laughter that had been managed, albeit badly, burst from his lungs and colored the air. Whether or not she was genuinely amused by what had transpired downstairs or laughing at his reaction, he didn’t know or care. All that mattered was Faith had managed to distract him…even if her method wasn’t particularly conventional.

But it worked. That much was very much like Faith. Not conventional at all, but still someone who managed to find a way to get the job done. Whether it was in training Rosalie, pulling her weight around the Hyperion, or even those times when she’d acted against Wesley’s wishes—tackling him before he’d managed to fire an arrow into Zack’s chest, for one—she did what she could based on what she thought was right. And downstairs, even if she hadn’t known exactly the thoughts running through his head, just that he needed help in focusing—or not focusing—on Zack.

On the guy he was allegedly trying to forgive.

“I don’t think Kelly’s gonna forget that anytime soon,” Faith said, swiping her thumb under her eye to wipe away some of the moisture that had gathered there. “Even if her husband was a rotten lay.”

“Was he?” Wesley found some perverse pleasure in this.

Faith shrugged. “Might be an evil vamp thing. Selfish pricks don’t give a rip about the female orgasm. He just wanted a fuck. And blood.” She paused. “Though B has Spike, and he seems to keep her lady parts happy.”

“Spike isn’t _evil._ He’s domesticated.”

Faith cracked up, her lovely brown eyes flashing with mirth, her paler-than-usual skin somewhat flushed with the after-effects of good, hearty laughter. In that moment, her beauty struck him hard. Really hard. Wes wasn’t a complete moron, nor was he dead below the waist. On some level, he’d always known Faith was pretty…attractive, even, though perhaps since their initial relationship had begun as mentor and mentee, and perhaps since she _had_ tied him up and tortured him, he’d never really seen her as a woman.

Except he did now. A woman with glittering eyes a gorgeous smile, and an infectious laugh.

Wesley couldn’t say what compelled him, what infected his feet and had him moving. All he knew was at once it seemed he needed to touch her. Feel her warm body against his, her mouth pressed to his mouth, her breasts against his chest. Before he could blink, he had closed the gap between them, his hands capturing her cheeks and drawing her to him. His lips crashed against hers, pulling her into a hard, fierce kiss. Faith seemed stunned at first, but in easy seconds she was melting against him, parting her lips and allowing his tongue entrance. Wesley felt his knees buckle, his cock stirring to life in for the first time in…

_Fred._

He broke away from her with a gasp, his stomach dropping. Fred.

Then he looked at Faith. Faith with her wide, open eyes, her swollen lips, her heaving breasts…

In that moment, he’d never wanted a woman as badly. Never.

And that scared the shit out of him.

“Faith—”

But then the decision was out of his hands. Faith pounced, her legs going around his waist, her mouth descending on his again, and rational thought flew out the window. She tugged at his lower lip with her teeth and thrust her pelvis against his groin. Then— _oh God—_ her hand slipped between their bodies and she was cupping him through his pants. And suddenly there was nothing in the world than having her naked and under him. Against him. He needed to know what she felt like.

He had to know.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “Do it, Faith.”

She untwined her legs from around his waist and put enough space between them to give him a long appraising look, as though she was searching for something. Then she was on him again, her hand diving for his belt buckle. In glorious seconds his cock sprang free, the prisoner of her hot hand. She shifted against him, shuffling out of her pants.

“Faith,” he groaned. “Oh…”

Then her pussy was above him, hovering, then sliding down over his cock, and his brain shorted out.

“Hold on, Wes,” Faith purred, squeezing him with muscles he’d never known to dream of, but would now for the rest of his life. “This ride’s gonna be rough.”

She started moving then, bucking, and he was lost.

*~*~*

“I want to kill her.”

Buffy rolled her eyes and cast Kelly a dry glance. “She was trying to distract Wes to keep your husband all Zack-shaped rather than scattered across the floor.”

“Did she have to do it like that?” Kelly snapped. “She practically—”

“Kelly, this is a dead subject,” Buffy said, and to demonstrate how done she was with the subject, turned her attention out the window and toward the butcher shop where Spike and Zack had disappeared a few minutes earlier. This was their last stop—the weapons were packed in the back, and though she figured their blood-gathering techniques at their destination would differ, they needed to keep their iron diet up for the trip.

In a Winnebago. Buffy still couldn’t get that figured, but Spike’s reasoning was sound. Zack lacked a ring, and travel accommodations typically didn’t cater to those with sun allergies. As long as Zack stayed in the back with the windows drawn, he’d remain uncrispy.

Still, hours on end in such cramped quarters, Buffy thought she might end up unleashing her vampire nature all over Kelly if she didn’t shut up about Faith.

“She didn’t fuck Spike,” Kelly spat. “How over it would you be if she’d done that?”

Buffy rolled her eyes again. “You’re gonna do that? Really?”

“Just don’t tell me to get over it. You have no idea what it feels like to have to see someone every day who…who…took advantage of someone you love to get her rocks off.”

Buffy twisted in her seat and seared Kelly with a look. “I can say a lot about Faith, believe me, but we’ve been over this. She did what she did to get close to Zack when none of us could. We’d already been fucking around at that point to the tune of allowing things to get way out of control. Faith assessed the situation and did what she thought would get us closer.”

“She took advantage—”

“No, she didn’t. Zack wanted it, and that’s what bothers you, isn’t it? Faith isn’t a beggar when it comes to sex.” Buffy fell quiet for a moment. “If it makes any difference, I do know what it feels like. Faith, once when we switched bodies, boinked my boyfriend.”

“Angel?”

She shook her head. “His name was Riley. He was my college boyfriend. Last boyfriend, actually before Spike.”

“Who was before Spike?” Spike asked as he threw open the driver’s side door. “Better open up, Kel,” he called. “Zangy’s about to burn to a crisp.”

Kelly moved obediently to open the Winnebago’s side-door, and was barely in time to admit a vampire sizzling under a blanket that looked half a second from bursting into flames. Zack tossed the blanket aside the second he was bathed in shadows, and flopped onto the floor without ceremony.

“That brings back memories,” Spike said, grinning at Buffy.

“Ow,” Zack whined. “Why did I have to do that again?”

“We needed blood,” Buffy reasoned.

“Yes, but I don’t have a ring,” he pointed out. “If you were gonna make me go, one of you could’ve lent me a ring.”

“That woulda defeated the purpose,” Spike said.

Zack looked stricken. “The purpose of me dying?”

“Oh, calm down,” Buffy said. “Real vampires don’t have sun-guarding gemstones. Real vampires have to learn to navigate during the day. The blanket is a time-honored favorite.”

“Among whom?” Zack sat up and tentatively patted his soot-colored face. “I smell burned skin.”

“You get used to it,” Spike promised, sliding behind the wheel.

“I really, really don’t want to get used to it.”

“Don’t worry,” Buffy said. “Kelly will get her turn, too.”

“What?” Kelly didn’t sound impressed. “No, no, no, Kelly will _not_ get her turn.”

“I think this is a plan to turn us both into dust, babe,” Zack said, and winced as he slumped into the seat at the makeshift kitchen table. “What happens if the blanket does catch on fire, or if the wind blows it away?”

“Then you catch on fire,” Spike said. “Won’t bloody kill you.”

“And if it does?”

“Then you were a piss poor vamp who deserved it.” He turned the ignition, then tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Which the lot of you are at the moment.”

Buffy stuck her tongue out at him. “Gee, thanks.”

“Sad to say, love, but it’s true. You know the slayer end all well an’ good. That’s only part of it.” He paused. “’Course, if you caught on fire, I’d at least put you out.”

“Aww.” Buffy crossed her hands over her heart. “How sweet.”

“Teacher’s picking favorites,” Zack stage whispered.

“Kinda hard not to when she’s the only one shagging the teacher,” Spike called. “Unless you’re volunteerin’, Zangy?”

Buffy and Spike exchanged a glance as Zack very probably relived some uncomfortable up-close-and-personal moments with Angelus. Angelus was rather non-discriminatory when it came to who he bedded. Well, that wasn’t true. He liked fucking women. He liked raping whoever he could get his hands on.

“Who was before Spike?” Spike asked, redirecting.

“Huh? Before you in what?”

“Heard you two talkin’ all conspiratorial like. Sayin’ someone was before Spike?”

“Oh.” Buffy looked over her shoulder at Kelly. “She’s pissed because of what Faith said back at the hotel.”

“Buffy!” Kelly whispered furiously, as though embarrassed to be caught in a jealous moment over her husband. These attitudes were not new for her—the past few weeks, especially as of late, Kelly had danced a precarious line between admitting she still loved her husband and wanting to ignore his existence. Her calmer attitude toward him at present likely made her uncomfortable, and she was probably also realizing for the first time that she’d be alone with Zack without the kids to act as buffer.

There would be nothing to do but talk.

And face the truth of what had happened.

However much Buffy sympathized with Kelly, she was also a bit tired of walking on eggshells. Yes, what had happened with Zack had been terrible, and yes, Kelly hadn’t really been exposed to that side of vampirism. For veterans of this song and dance, Zack’s reign of terror was a tad familiar, even if it did hit close to home.

And call her selfish, but Buffy was the one he’d chained up and raped. He might have made Kelly a victim of infidelity, but he’d made Buffy a victim. And if she could stand to be in the same room—let alone the same Winnebago—as the man wearing the face of the monster who had violated her, Kelly could get over her hang-up.

That was the point of this trip, after all. To accept the past, come to terms with the present, and prepare for the future.

“That bit about havin’ shagged practically everyone in sight?” Spike offered, his brows going up. “Think the bird would learn not to gossip with us around.”

“I think she was trying to keep Wes from killing me,” Zack offered. “And if so, it worked.” There was an awkward pause. “Kelly, what happened with Faith—”

“Shut up,” Kelly hissed. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“And that’s where you came in,” Buffy told Spike. “I was recounting the days of when Faith hijacked my body and jumped on Riley.”

“That’s a right shame. I’d thought she’d have better taste than that.”

“Hey!” Buffy’s nose wrinkled. “I resemble that remark.”

“I know you do, love.” He grinned. “Your taste in men had nowhere to go but up. Then again, reboundin’ off Peaches, I could see how you’d need a phase between Dull an’ Duller to get ready for yours truly.”

“You love making everything about you,” she teased.

“Faith came onto me while she was wearin’ your skin. I ever tell you that?”

Buffy felt a possessive fist seize her heart. “No,” she said flatly. Then, a horrible thought struck her. “Did you—”

Spike grinned and met her eyes, his own twinkling with merriment that came whenever she expressed jealousy. In those eyes she read the depth of his love for her—the same that stole her proverbial breath and made her second-guess herself at every turn. And though his words teased, his eyes spoke for everything he wasn’t saying at the moment. “What do you think?”

She felt herself relax. “I think I would’ve known by now, since if you’d gotten me into bed then you wouldn’t have relented.”

“Fuck no, I wouldn’t have. Woulda tailed you till the end of the earth.”

“Good.” Buffy expelled a deep breath. “So I don’t have to kill her.”

“Oh,” Kelly snapped, her tone having escalated to dangerous proportions without warning. “So it’s something I should just get over? But the idea of her fucking your husband _in theory_ while _in your body_ and before you two even got together is enough to make you jealous? And I’m overreacting?”

Zack slapped his hands over his ears. “I won’t answer the first question, but you are a little loud.”

And Buffy twisted in his seat. “I never said you couldn’t be jealous,” she said flatly. “Damn, Kelly, _of course_ you should be jealous. And even if Spike _had_ done something back then, aside from my kicking _his_ pale ass sideways, I know the girl who fucked my then-boyfriend and apparently tried to get it on with half of Sunnydale while wearing a Buffy mask _isn’t_ Faith as we know her today. I’ve already been mad at her for that, but it’s done. It’s in the past. She’s changed.”

“Yes. Her willingness to sacrifice her cunt for the good of Los Angeles is really telling.”

Spike’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think Kelly knew that word.”

“I can’t believe this is how we’re starting the trip,” Zack lamented. But he released a heady sigh and turned to his wife with bravado—bravado Buffy hadn’t seen much recently. Another sign that the Zack of Old, while still distant, was on his way back.

“Kelly,” he said sharply. “Faith wanted my attention that night, and I wanted to hurt you. I would’ve killed whoever I ended up with.” He looked up briefly and met Buffy’s gaze before flinching and looking away as he so often did when he had to look at her. “But she was there to get my attention. She got it. I was going to fuck _someone_ that night, because I wanted to hurt you. And the kids. And Spike and Buffy and everything that reminded me that I had once had a soul. I wanted it to hurt. Say what you want about Faith, but she’s a good hunter, and she saw that in me. She saved someone’s life that night.”

Kelly didn’t look the least bit convinced. “So she fucked you for the greater good?”

Zack drew in what sounded like an extraordinarily patient breath. “I didn’t say that,” he replied softly, his tone even-tempered. “And I don’t know. I don’t know her well enough to know what her intentions were, and yeah we’ve all heard some things, but I think she’s proven it wasn’t personal.”

“It was to me,” Kelly whispered.

He was quiet a respectful amount of time. “I know it was, Kel. But…she didn’t know me. She didn’t know you, either. It wasn’t done to hurt you, and she certainly hasn’t done anything to follow up on it.”

Kelly didn’t respond, but the tension radiating from the back seemed to ease down a notch.

“Besides,” Zack added, his tone taking on a dry tone. “I already got her back for you. In case you forgot, I killed her.” He looked up then and met Buffy’s gaze again. This time, she didn’t feel the inner flinch. “Just turns out she’s hard to keep dead.”

Buffy’s lips twisted in a grin she didn’t try to fight. “Hard to keep a slayer down.”

“That’s for bloody sure.” Spike turned his attention to the rearview mirror, likely to give them both a good glower. Of course, being that the backseat was comprised of vamps, his intentions didn’t go too far. Instead, he huffed out a curse and turned again. “I don’t know rot about Faith, but I can say this: she’s kept a good number of people alive last year, and for those of you soul-types who give a fuck about anyone not in this car, that’s good, yeah? Eternity’s a long bloody time, kiddies. Too fucking long to dredge up old injuries. There’s your first lesson. Pick your grudges, ’cause you bloody well can’t carry all of them.”

“Not really practicing what you preach there, are you?” Buffy teased.

Spike met her gaze. “There are things worth keeping angry over. In the grand scheme of the buggered up year we had, who Faith had between her legs an’ why doesn’t really matter, does it?”

He didn’t await a reply, simply turned around and jerked the Winnebago into reverse.

“Hold on, kiddies,” he growled. “This is gonna be a bumpy ride.”

*~*~*

It was time.

Willow didn’t want it to be time. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to step outside the hospital as a new mom, especially when so many things were still…well, screwy.

It would be so much easier if she’d had the baby the way she’d wanted to have it. On her terms. On her continent. In her hospital. Away from Sam.

Because Sam screwed with her head. He’d climbed in there last year, made himself at home, and never stopped. Their last confrontation had been heated and a little too honest for her taste, but the things she’d said needed saying…if not for his sake, then hers.

It would be easy to believe him. Sam was idealistic, passionate, intelligent, and all other good things that made her want to kiss logic goodbye and fall into his arms. Just being around him was enough to screw with her equilibrium, even under the duress of having their child—a child he’d just found out about. Seeing him, being in his space, made her remember how easy it had seemed last year when she’d fallen into his bed and imagined that she could also claim a place in his heart.

But that world didn’t exist now. Perhaps it could have, had Josh not gotten his hands all over everything, but Willow, an older, wiser Willow than the girl who’d fallen so carelessly in love with an American politician, knew better now. Josh might have been wrong in his methods, he might deserve everything that came as a result of his meddling, but he’d been right about Sam and her, and how improbable they were together.

Still, Willow wanted to believe that if somehow Josh had not been as much of a tool as he’d been that something could have been arranged. If she and Sam had been together from the start, facing the pregnancy as a team rather than independent career-driven people from literally different worlds. It would have been hard, but perhaps not this hard.

Sam would have at least had time to realize how improbable they were together before they had to face the reality of raising a child on two different continents, with two different lives.

Only, Baby Oz would never be Sam’s child. He couldn’t take him out, couldn’t shop for clothes, couldn’t pick up new toys, couldn’t stroll him around a neighborhood. Oz would get to know Sam’s home very well, but not the world beyond. A lovechild would be bad enough—a lovechild with _Willow Rosenberg_ would be disastrous.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she found herself asking Hermione for perhaps the eight hundredth time. “You’ll miss—”

Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed Willow’s bag. “Ron’s been wanting a new house for ages,” she said. “He’ll have plenty of time to destroy the one we have if I’m not there to pick up after him.”

“But California is…” She made a face. “So not England.”

Hermione shrugged and began the walk down the hospital corridor with Willow trailing after her. “I always wanted to study abroad. Learn how American Muggles go about their lives, and how the wizarding world operates over here. It will be a learning experience. Besides…” She paused and appraised Willow with a long, knowing look. “Something tells me you’re rubbish with babies.”

“What?”

“Willow, all new mothers have their moments. You’re rubbish with babies, but you won’t always be. It’s a two person job, really, especially if your baby has Magic blood. They can make all sorts of…” She paused and shuddered heavily. “There’s still a stain on the second floor where Hugo…well, I’ll tell you some other time. That actually might be why Ron wants a new house.”

Willow smiled at the thought, but shook her head. “Oz won’t be Magic, I can assure you. I’m a Muggle, remember?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Yes, right, you’re about as Muggle as they get.”

“I wasn’t born a witch. We’ve been over this.”

“Exactly,” Hermione said, whirling around to face her. “And even if that made a difference, let’s not forget that Muggles Learning Magic is something the Wizarding World still knows very little about, so making any type of assertion is careless. Furthermore…” She paused and stuck her chin in the air. “My parents are as _Muggle_ as they come. Muggle-born witches and wizards are not exactly uncommon, and since you are a professor, _professor,_ you’d be better to remember that.” She paused. “Especially given your own heritage. And the event next week.” She whirled around without ceremony and continued her way down the hall.

Willow’s eyes widened and she struggled to catch up. “Next week? What’s next week?”

“Harry might have mentioned you were moving to the west coast for the rest of term, which might have garnered some attention from Sparrowfield and they might want you to visit their class.”

“Hermione, I just had a _baby!”_

“And? Oh yes, I forget…childbirth is so overhyped among Muggles. You’ll be fine. As a Muggle-born, Muggle _witch_ who teaches at Hogwarts, you’re quite the catch. Even more than Harry.”

“Harry’s going?”

“Why do you think he got that call? Sparrowfield learned Harry was in the States and made a grab for him.”

Good. At least she wouldn’t have to suffer alone. All of America might have gone without knowing about Harry’s victory over Voldemort had it not been for the Rowling woman. The American Ministry had known, of course, but they had kept things under wraps until toward the end, when ignoring the Death Eaters’ infiltration of the British Ministry had been impossible. Harry’s actions, in tandem with Rowling’s books, had made him a worldwide wizarding hero.

Stateside, it was a bit worse. Sort of like when Americans first discovered the Beatles.

“If Sparrowfield knows, then Pogs-Gumble—”

“We’re waiting for the Owl,” Hermione agreed. She pulled to a stop outside the maternity ward. “Ready to take Oz home?”

“Not even at all.”

“Well…I think Donna’s coming with us. To get away from Josh, just for a bit.” Hermione shrugged. “I offered and she seemed interested…”

“Hermione,” Willow said slowly, “Donna might be heartbroken, but she’s still a raging Rowling fangirl. Do you really want to have her in the same space?”

“She learned she’s pregnant. And she’s been betrayed by the man she loves.” Hermione shrugged. “I can deal with a little undeserved adoration if it helps her get through that.”

“You’re a good friend.”

She nodded. “The very best. Now, collect your baby and let’s get out of here. Ron’s outside waiting in the car and I’m afraid he might get so nervous he jinxes it.”

“The car?”

“No,” Hermione replied gravely. “The outside.”

*~*~*

She’d fucked Wes.

The words didn’t feel right—not in her head and certainly not aloud. Yet their wrongness did little to make the reality of what she’d done any less, well, real. She hadn’t gone upstairs intending to fuck Wes. Fucking and Wes were mutually exclusive things. Yet when he’d attacked her with his mouth, something in her had snapped, and at once she very much wanted to fuck Wes.

The man who had been her Watcher.

The whole affair seemed a giant blur. After he’d spent her spiraling into orgasm—and damn if that hadn’t shocked the shit out of her—and followed suit, they had collapsed into an unruly pile on the floor. A collection of sweaty, still-mostly-clothed limbs and heaving chests and the less sexy reality.

Then the world had returned, and Faith had bolted…though Wes was close behind her. Not following, just getting away. As far away as possible.

It seemed safer than confronting what had happened.

Faith had found her way back to her room, closed the door, and sat on the bed in something of a daze. The fact she was so bothered by this bothered her even more, because sex wasn’t something she typically ruminated over. Even when she reflected on her actions as not her finest hour—like the whole incident with Zack, for starters—she didn’t let it get under her skin. Past was past, and all that jazz. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d screwed up, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Only Wes was under her goddamned skin, and it burned like a motherfucker.

Faith didn’t do feelings, and she certainly didn’t fuck with her heart on her sleeves. She did one nighters, or had fuck buddies like Nick.

She didn’t do feelings.

Yet it was more complicated than that. Faith could admit her past with Wes was rockier than that with any other man to slip between her proverbial sheets. Aside from having once held the dubious title of Watcher, she and Wes…well, there was pain there. Lots of pain. Aside from having tied him up and tortured him that one time, which was a whole different can of worms. There was the mess that was last year, and the tentative baby steps they’d taken toward rehabilitation. Wes had hit bottom in a way Faith recognized all too well. There were still days when the weight of her crimes threatened to keep her in bed.

Other days when she needed to beat the shit out of something if only to keep herself from finishing what she’d started that night. The night she begged Angel to kill her. She hadn’t been brave enough to do it herself then; she was now. She just didn’t have a death wish.

Most days.

There was something about going through that sort of pain that changed one’s perspective, usually in ways that remained hard to define and even harder to identify. A part of her had been there for Wes from the start of this fucked up mess, if only because she had managed to dig herself out of that goddamned hole. Maybe broken girls gravitated toward chaos more than stability. Maybe that was what kept them from piecing together again. Hunter was broken in his own way, but that was different.

He’d been broken before. He hadn’t broken himself.

What had happened in Sunnydale hadn’t done much aside from work over a disaster in progress. The whole incident with the Mayor, killing his aid, losing her shit and going off the deep end…that had been a long time coming. The product of a household similar to what she felt Hunter might have gone through, though he never talked about it. He’d taken the high path toward making something of himself. She’d allowed the darkness to drag her down. They were kindred spirits—mirror images, in many ways. He saw in her what might have happened if the demons of his past had caught up with him. She saw in him what she might have been had she done a better job of fighting hers off.

But Faith wasn’t good at doing the right thing. She gravitated toward chaos. It was the reason she knew, had known, that Zack Wright, back during their glorious fling, might have been a guy she could’ve fallen in love with…fucked up as that was. Not Zack Wright as she knew him today—that guy had his shit together. She remembered him fondly, but didn’t feel the zap of attraction as she had the first time their eyes met.

When she identified him as a creature as broken as she.

Wes, though…Wes was that now. And he was fighting all the kings horses and all the kings men with every breath, hoping no one noticed how _not okay_ he was.

She noticed.

And it hit every one of her goddamned buttons. He was her not too long ago, and she wanted to help him so badly…though for him or her?

Had she fucked him to embrace what she was, or what she had once been?

And why didn’t it feel like a one-time thing? For the sake of their sanity, it couldn’t happen again.

A knock at the door jerked Faith out of her daze. She had a horrible feeling it was Wes, and even more horrible feeling she’d drag him to the ground and fuck his brains out if it was. Because screwing was easier than thinking, and she was goddamned tired of thinking.

It wasn’t Wes. It was Nick.

“Hey,” he said, smiling his mischievous little smile that spoke of all the dirty things he wanted to do to Rosalie but would do to her instead. “We’re on patrol tonight after we check this place out. Then you and I can make other things crash if you like.”

The instinctive answer was yes. Get as far from here as possible. Get her mind off all this bullshit and lose herself for a few hours in beating the crap out of creatures who probably deserved it less than she did before fucking Nick cross-eyed.

A no brainer before. She wanted to kill things, but she wasn’t interested in what came next. Faith might be an idiot, but she’d matured enough to know that confusing her already confused mind with more sex would be dumb.

And she wasn’t sure she’d be strong enough to turn down the offer later.

“Nah,” Faith said. “I’m gonna hit the west side of town. Ya’ll take this.”

Hunter’s face fell. “You’re sure?”

“Lone wolf, Watcher boy. Some nights I gotta do my own thing.” She paused. “Keep an eye on her.”

“Of course.” His frown deepened. “Are you okay?”

He wasn’t asking as a guy who wasn’t getting lucky later—he was asking as a friend. Faith wasn’t good at dealing with the friend part, but she somehow managed to stop herself before she made some dumbass comment that would only come back to kick her in the ass.

“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “Five by five.”

She shut the door on him before he could reply.

It’d been a while since she’d shimmied down a storm drain, but it wasn’t the sort of thing a girl forgot.

And infinitely less confusing than going through the lobby and possibly running into Wes.

She couldn’t deal with that shit now.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick was trying to decipher his last moments with Faith as he made his way downstairs. Things had been going well before “the show” as she had called it. Things had gone okay during “the show”…if you counted Faith distracting Wes from killing Zack good. Nick did. So why did he have a feeling things weren’t good? Faith had never been an easy book to read, but he had prided himself on having a basic mastery of the table of contents. That being said, he wasn’t shocked that he couldn’t figure out what had made her pull back. He’d give her some space and try again later.

That was what he loved about Faith. While they were bedmates, they never confused sex for romance. They never had to talk about their feelings or share their hopes and dreams. Months ago Nick realized that Faith had become his best friend, but that didn’t change the fact that Faith wasn’t one to open up.

Which was fine. Nick had his own demons.

Coming down the staircase, lost in his thoughts, Nick ran smack into Rosalie. “Hey!” they said in unison.

“Did you find her?” she asked. “I just had the weirdest thing happen.”

“You did?”

“Yeah…I found Wes in the kitchen and I asked about Faith and he did a spit-take on a bottle of water.”

“A what?”

Rosalie rolled her eyes at him and sighed in exasperation. “Like on those bad comedy shows. He was gulping down a bottle of water and I asked where Faith was. He choked and spew water all over the floor.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Then he turned and walked out without a word. Mom is gonna be pissed when she steps in the puddle. I kinda want to be the one to tell her it’s Wes spit, but I also don’t want to listen to her nag.”

“Faith was kinda weird too.”

“So you found her.”

“She didn’t want to join us.”

“But she was supposed to help us break into your apartment.”

“ _Potential_ apartment…and why would we need her help?”

Rosalie folded her arms and gave a patronizing stare that eerily mimicked Wright. “Am I to really believe that _you_ know how to pick a lock?”

Now it was his turn to look condescending. “Damn bloody right you are! Love, you don’t know half of what I am capable of.”

She gave him a smirk. “Is boring me on that list? Sorry Nickster, but I already figured that out.”

“Really?” He cracked a devilish grin. “Then I might just show you a couple of my other tricks.”

“Bring it on.”

*~*~*

Sam finished packing his suitcase and placed it by the door. It was his last night in DC before heading back to Sacramento and he was operating on autopilot. The whole day was a fog of meetings and phone calls. His assistants continued to question his previous absence and his lack of information only made them more persistent and aggravated.

He went through the motions of being the governor, but from the moment he last saw Willow and Oz, he doubted his choice of career. Honestly, it was taking all he could muster to not draft his resignation and go running to his baby boy and his magical mother.

Life didn’t make sense. He’d spent so many years of his life trying to make the world a better place. First with the Bartlet administration, before running for Congress and governor. He hadn’t sought out to ever run. All he had ever wanted to do was be a part of something greater than himself. To try and make this world and this country something he would want to raise a child in.

Now he had a son. A beautiful and amazing little boy. The shock of finding out that Willow was carrying his child was swept away with one look at those little eyes staring back up at him. And all he wanted to do was hold and protect him from all the things he hadn’t yet been able to change.

Like the fact his mother being a witch was something that the majority of the world couldn’t handle. Someone who had saved the world from annihilation wasn’t able to show her true identity to society because it was too much than they could handle.

Sam wondered if he should throw his whole career on the idea that witches and wizards and vampires and whatever else there was that existed, but “didn’t” exist should be allowed to live openly in society.

Then again, was it really his place to “out” a segment of the population that didn’t seem to have a problem staying in the shadows?

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Sam sank himself down on the sofa. There was no clear choice. If he resigned, he would have his son, but that didn’t guarantee he and Willow could ever get back that passion they once had. If he continued on as governor, he could move forward with his goal of making the world a better place, but wouldn’t be able to openly share it with his son.

Life sucked. Hard.

Sam was contemplating scavenging the place for a bottle of booze to dull the thoughts running through his mind when he heard the knock at the door. He tried to ignore it, but the knocker wasn’t a normal kind of knocker.

The sound started off as a low and quiet rapping of knuckles that didn’t stop. No, after several moments the sound grew louder as the knocker used more force. After a minute or so the knuckles were abandoned and whoever it was decided to start pounding with their whole fist.

Since the walls were shaking and Sam feared the neighbors would call the cops, he got up and made his way to the door. Angrily, he pulled it open and snapped, “What the hell?”

“What took you so long?”

Life didn’t just suck. It seemed to have it out for him.

“Josh.” He was too emotionally drained to yell. Or punch him in the face. “Please leave.”

“Where is she, Sam?”

Sam tried to push the door close, but Josh stumbled past him and inside the apartment. Sam got an overwhelming aroma of… “Is that whiskey?”

“Scotch.”

“You’re drunk?”

“Do I look drunk to you?”

Sam looked at his disheveled friend with glossy eyes who swayed awkwardly back and forth. “Yup.”

“Where is she?”

Sam sighed. He was too tired to kick him out. Especially since it was Washington’s worst kept secret that Josh Lyman couldn’t handle his liquor. “My guess is she and Oz are setting themselves up in California.”

“Who the _fuck_ is Oz? What kinda of lame-ass name is Oz? I bet he’s a fucking wizard. The wonderful wizard of Oz.”

Sam was not impressed. Mainly because he hadn’t thought of _The Wizard of Oz._ “Oz is my son.”

“Why did Donna run away with your son?”

Sam blinked. “Why did you think I was talking about Donna?”

“Who else would I care about?”

“Maybe the mother of my child that you kept from me?”

Josh winced and threw his hands up in the air. “I didn’t know she was pregnant! I didn’t! And the only reason I kept her away was because I didn’t think she was good enough for you.”

“Thanks again for letting me make my own decisions.”

“She could have told you if she wanted to. She’s a fucking witch! She could have sent a spell to your house or teleported or sent a letter on a pigeon. You know…that magical stuff.”

“I know. But she didn’t. So what? What can we do about it now?”

“Stop blaming me!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just lay down on the couch and go to sleep. I have to get up early to fly back to Sacramento.”

Josh walked over to the sofa, but didn’t lie down. “Where’s Donna?”

“I don’t know.”

Josh seemed to not expect that answer. “You don’t?”

With a disgusted sigh, Sam turned to walk toward his bedroom. “No. I haven’t seen her since the hospital.”

“She quit.”

“Well, I don’t expect she’s in a happy place with you at the moment. Considering you live in a world full of enemies, it’s not a shock you’d eventually fuck over your friends for the sake of the game.”

“I was trying to protect you. I thought it was a fling. Like the hooker. And you would get your head back in the game and she’d go back in the wardrobe to Narnia and everything would be fine.”

“Maybe it would have. If she wasn’t pregnant.”

“Do you think Narnia is real too?”

“What?”

“Seriously, I don’t know what’s fucking fairytales anymore.”

“I don’t know!” Sam paused. “Maybe?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Maybe that’s where she went.”

Sam blinked. “Huh?”

“Maybe Donna went to Narnia.”

The sober man sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, Narnia. Makes more sense than she booked herself a room at The Willard.”

“She quit. The White House. She quit. She packed her stuff and left me. She quit.”

“Wow.” He knew that Donna was hurt and upset, but he hadn’t expected her to take it all this hard. Granted, she was close to Willow. Introduced them in fact. That still seemed a little drastic to throw her career away for a friend. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I can’t lose her, Sam.” Josh stumbled and banged into a bookshelf, send a couple random papers and knickknacks scattering to the ground. “She’s my…this can’t be how it ends.”

“This isn’t the end. This is the beginning of a new story.” He was saying that to himself as much as to Josh. He couldn’t give up. It may not work balancing a career and a family full of secrets, but damn it all he was willing to try.

“In Narnia?”

“Whatever.”

*~*~*

“I’m worried. Are you worried? I thought you’d be more worried.”

Spike suppressed a small snicker, drumming his fingers along the steering wheel. A few minutes had passed since the girls had departed—Buffy walking calmly and Kelly making a mad dash under the protection of the blanket, pillars of smoke trailing after her. Since they disappeared from view, Zack had pressed his hands and face to the Winnebago’s window, watching intently for any sign of their return.

“Why did I let you talk me into this?” he muttered a moment.

“Do you really want to go there?” Spike replied, throwing a look over his shoulder.

A small silence. “No.”

“Didn’t think so.” He shifted in his seat and pried his half-empty carton of fags from his jeans pocket. After wedging a cig between his lips, he turned and offered the pack to Zack. “Fancy a smoke?”

For his part, Zack didn’t even favor him with a glance. “Seriously, what’s taking so long?”

“You do realize they’ve been gone all of two minutes.”

“How long does it take to check into a hotel?”

“More than two minutes, I’d wager.” Spike shifted and slid his cigs back into his pocket, swapping them for his Zippo. He’d found it was better to keep his hands occupied when he was alone with Zack—the violent impulses were less now, but every now and then, an image of Buffy strung up in the dungeons of Wolfram and Hart would flash through his head and it became difficult to remember why the bastard was still alive.

Which meant he ended up having this conversation with himself at least a thousand times a day, and had for the last nine months. The trip was necessary for him too—he needed to learn to put it behind him. Because he did love the prat. Really.

“I think I see ‘em!” Zack said, still trying to become one with the window. “I…Kelly’s not running. Why isn’t she running? And _oh my god,_ why doesn’t she have the blanket? She’s going to fry!”

Spike rolled his eyes. “She’s wearing the ring, pillock.”

“Oh. I knew that.”

Kelly opened the driver’s side door, then climbed into the back. The second the door was open, Buffy zoomed across the parking lot, the blanket billowing behind her. As the sun had pretty much gone down, the entire blanket thing was more or less unnecessary, but Spike had insisted that Kelly give up the ring to check them into their first stop—a nice test, as he put it—and Zack had all but swaddled her before letting her out of the Winnebago.

The lot of them were in for a rotten surprise when they got to Mississippi. Vamps weren’t supposed to get to enjoy the sun. They also weren’t supposed to cozy up on the sofa, turn on the telly and sip from a bag of bagged pig’s blood. Granted, he rather liked that set-up, but he’d lived the other way longer. If he was going to teach them how to be real vamps, sans the brutal killing of innocents—he didn’t much think Buffy would go for that—then he’d bloody well start with taking away all these luxuries they’d been coddled with.

“Are you okay?” Zack was asking, carefully not touching Kelly but very clearly wanting to. “You didn’t get burned, did you?”

Buffy bundled up the blanket, met Spike’s gaze and rolled her eyes. “It was a long, terrifying journey. Twists and turns abound, and a surprise ending. There were moments when I didn’t think I’d make it back. The horror. The horror.” She held up her wrist, which was slightly pink from the barest of sun damage. “And I have a boo boo.”

He grinned. “I’ll kiss it better tonight.”

“My first real wound of vampirism? I’ll wear it with pride.” She bit back a grin. “But yes, we’re checked in for the night. These two”—she waved toward the back—”will be sharing a bathroom. That’s what took so long. Check in guy didn’t quite grasp why the married folks weren’t rooming together.”

“I told them we were going on a couple’s therapy retreat,” Kelly said.

“Told them?” Buffy repeated, turning in her seat. “You screamed it when he was entering in the credit card info.”

“You didn’t see the way he was looking at me!”

“That’s because he wasn’t.”

Kelly huffed. “He already thought I was strange for coming in wrapped in a blanket.”

“And somehow shouting about marital discord seemed the obvious solution.”

“I don’t see why we need to use the stupid blanket for things like this,” Kelly complained. “We have the rings. Why do we need to attract attention to ourselves like that? Everyone in the lobby was staring at me.”

“Better question,” Spike said, “is why do you care?”

Kelly blinked at him. Zack just scowled.

“And that’s the lesson, kiddies,” Spike said. “You’re thinking all human-like. Think a real vamp gives two figs about making a spectacle of themselves in front of the townies?” He turned and met Zack’s eyes. “Can you say you did last year at all? Spend a lot of time fretting about what the tasty locals thought?”

Zack’s expression went hard, his eyes all but unreadable, his mouth twisting in something between a frown and a grimace. It was the same look that overcame him anytime someone mentioned his soulless rampage. Though his reaction had evolved over the last few months—at the first, he wouldn’t have been able to meet anyone’s eyes.

But that was another thing they’d have to do—come to terms. Accept it as their past rather than deny it had happened. And though the wounds were still open and deep, there were things in that experience that Zack would have to face, even embrace.

“No,” Zack admitted at last, his tone hard. “I didn’t care what anyone thought. Hell, if they looked at me funny, I killed them.”

Spike nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“So I should have killed the check-in guy,” Kelly said sarcastically. “Gee. Great lesson.”

“No,” Spike replied, struggling for patience. “But that’s the point, innit? A soulless vamp wouldn’t have bloody well checked-in. She’d have had herself a snack, knicked a key, an’ ripped out the throat of anyone who crossed paths with her. Because we don’t care what people think. People aren’t us. We’re something different. And as far as vamps go, _we’re_ bloody tame. Someone give you lip? Flash ’em some fang and see how much they point and whisper after that.”

Kelly was quiet for a moment. Then she huffed again and turned her attention to Buffy. “Why is this so much easier for you?”

“What?”

“You didn’t seem embarrassed or uncomfortable at all.” She wiggled, crossing her arms. “It’s not fair. We have the same amount of soul, don’t we?”

“Yes,” Buffy said slowly. “But we’re not the same. Exhibit A.” She swung her thumb in Spike’s direction. “I’ve been around him for a long ass time.”

Spike winked and blew her a kiss.

“And more importantly, I’m from Sunnydale. I was the Slayer.” She shrugged. “I did the whole giving a shit thing when I was in high school for a while, but when you’re constantly covered in demon muck, bruises, bleeding, or crashing through large windows, the giving a shit goes away. I didn’t have time to explain to every business owner that I was saving their lives or the world or whatever was going on that week. I might not be from Spike’s part of the world, but the world itself? That’s where I grew up. And once you turn off the caring, it’s hard to turn it back on. And I wouldn’t want to. It’s too much work for exactly zero reward.”

There was a long pause. “Okay,” Kelly said, the note in her voice indicating she understood, even if she resented it. “I can work on not giving a shit. Maybe. But this?” She waved at the blanket. “I don’t want to do that again. Not just for the pride thing, but the scary thing. You don’t know what’s going to happen, and even if I could survive being on fire, I don’t want to try.”

“That seems fair,” Zack said quickly. “Kelly doesn’t need to do that again, does she?”

“Kelly’s not a wallflower, Zack,” Buffy said. “She can be one with the blanket.”

“But Kelly doesn’t want to be one with the blanket,” Kelly whined. “Is this necessary? Really? We have the rings.”

“Some of us do,” Zack muttered.

“Wouldn’t a _real vamp_ or whatever use whatever they had? They wouldn’t go running around playing chicken with the sun.”

Spike nodded. “You’re right.”

She beamed. “Aha! So no more blanket.”

“No, the blanket stays. Yeah, we have the rings—”

“Some of us,” Zack repeated, a bit louder this time.

“—but we might not always. An’ I hate to break it to you, pidge, but scaling across one bloody parking lot doesn’t exactly a lesson make. It’s just good practice.”

Kelly froze. Zack did too. Together, they swung their heads toward the front.

“Good practice for what?” Kelly asked.

Spike met Buffy’s gaze, and was grateful to see her eyes were dancing. He wasn’t a moron—he knew she wasn’t looking forward to any of the challenges coming her way, but he also knew that she knew how needed it was. She wouldn’t complain—in front of the others, at least. She’d stand with him, and that was all that mattered.

She smiled her understanding, then glanced toward the back. “For the day he takes away the blanket.”

*~*~*

It was nice, Willow reflected, to be able to show the British contingency a thing or two about American magic. Granted, there wasn’t much to be said about a train that could surpass the infamous Hogwarts Express, except the Coastal Zipline was about a bajillion times faster and completely modernized.

“Wicked accommodations, Will,” Ron said happily as he stuffed his suitcase in the expandable compartment beneath his and Hermione’s bed. While the Coastal Zipline would deliver them across the country in a handful of hours, it was still an overnight trip, particularly this late in the afternoon.

“Yes,” Hermione said, her tone less appreciative and more _what did I do to deserve this_. “He has discovered something called ESPN.”

“Why’s it we don’t have a telly in our house?”

“Because I want our children to be literate.”

“They can be literate.” Ron pointed at the marquee below the ball player’s name. “See there. Daryl Raspberry. Bloody awful name, but I can read it just fine.”

Harry popped his head into the room, took one look at the scene, and grinned. “I wondered what would happen the day Ron discovered television,” he drawled, then laughed at Hermione’s pained expression.

“So close,” she whispered. “We were so close.”

“And here I didn’t think Muggles had pictures that moved,” Ron said, poking the screen with his index finger. “These are loads better. They actually do stuff.”

Willow snickered, then threw her hands up at the murderous look Hermione tossed her way. “Sorry. I really didn’t know Ron didn’t know what a television was.”

“Oi,” Ron objected, looking away from the screen’s glow at last. “I knew what a television was. I just didn’t know it was this brilliant, is all.”

“Err, Willow,” Harry said, his eyes rounding in alarm. “I don’t mean to call your parenting style into question, but your son would be, where, exactly?”

Willow smiled, then nodded in the general direction of the suite she shared with Donna. “Donna’s watching him. He’s been fed and burped, and now it’s time for nappies,” she said. Then frowned. “Well, that’s kinda all he does. Sleep, make a mess of his diaper, eat and sleep some more.” She swallowed. “Kinda dull, isn’t it?”

Harry exchanged a glance with Ron, who aimed a half-grin at Hermione.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Real dull. Just wait until the day you walk in to give him a bath and he turns all the water into pumpkin juice.”

“That was Hugo’s favorite,” Hermione said. “With Rose, it was blinking out of her clothes the second you got her looking presentable.”

“Or worse,” Ron chimed in, “when you were introducing your family to the Minister of Magic and suddenly he’s holding a naked baby.”

At that, Hermione groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “I had almost forgotten about that.”

“Well, I can’t. Ole Didgery brings it up every time I see the git.” Ron sighed heavily and shook his head. “I’ll ever understand how that blighter got the job.”

Harry smiled appreciatively, but he had a look on his face that made Willow aware he was about to bring the conversation back to things she had been enjoying not thinking about. “How are you holding up?” he asked.

“You mean in the two hours since we left DC?” Willow rubbed her arms. “Okay, I guess. It still hasn’t sunk in. The whole…baby having and Sam and…hell, pretty much everything with Donna.”

“How is she?” Hermione asked.

“I think babysitting Oz is keeping her mind off all things Josh and love child.” Willow frowned. “Or she’s sitting there staring at Oz and freaking out about how she has one of those growing in her uterus. I’m not sure. It could go either way with Donna.”

“That guy is a right wanker,” Ron said. “Figure she’ll be feeling better about the whole thing by the time we get to California.”

Willow experienced a pang of both loyalty and agreement, which only served to confuse her already confused head. The impression her friends had of Josh was truly unfair. Sure, he could be a douche-canoe—and he had been one for the better part of a year where she was concerned—but he was also incredibly kind, loving, and devoted. He was ambitious, which made him shortsighted at times, particularly when it came to what he thought was right. His thinking was always strategic, which had a way of eliminating the human element, and she knew that wasn’t intentional.

Sam had told her before she left that she couldn’t blame Josh for everything, and that was true. As much as she wanted to deny it, there was a good amount of culpability to go around. Hell, she could have sent Ophelia with a letter, or worked up Sam’s office on the Floo Network, or Apparated in his bedroom or any number of things.

She’d given up. Josh was a handy excuse—and he had been an asshole—but he wasn’t entirely to blame.

It was unfortunate Ron, Harry and Hermione had met the worst version of Josh.

Willow swallowed. “Actually,” she said, “I think I need to go do something.”

Hermione looked concerned. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.” Except she was about to do something that might cost her a friend. She turned to Harry. “Can I see you a moment?”

Harry blinked. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

She nodded pointedly toward his quarters. It took him half a second to get the hint, then he turned and stalked off with her at his heels.

When they were alone, Willow asked, before she could second guess herself, “Can I borrow some parchment, and your quill?”

A frown slashed Harry’s brow. “What are you going to do?”

“I need to write to Sam.”

That wasn’t a lie—she did need to write to him at some point. Tell him where she and Oz had landed, and make arrangements so he could see his son. All those things were true, just not on her current agenda.

“Now?”

“Might as well.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Willow snickered. “Harry, at any given time there are hundreds of somethings I’m not telling you. I just want to write a letter right now, okay? I’m done keeping the baby daddy out of the loop. He needs to know things.”

Now, all of that was true.

Harry studied her for a moment longer, his expression remaining dubious. However, he didn’t offer any further objections before providing her with what she’d asked for.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m going to go check on Oz. I’ll bring back your quill in a jiff.”

“Right,” Harry said, his tone suspicious. “In a jiff.”

Willow didn’t wait. She practically flew back to her suite.

She found Donna much the way she’d left her—that was, glued to the television, flipping between news networks in search for anything regarding what was going on in Washington, though they’d left just a couple hours earlier and Donna had been off the White House payroll for about the same amount of time. Oz was still sleeping, and though Willow did take a long—really long—moment to ogle at the perfection that was her child, she also knew she needed to get this done now. Before her conscience could get in the way, before she convinced herself Josh didn’t deserve it, or it wasn’t her place, or that Donna would kill her, or all the above.

So she hurried to the room’s provided desk, ripped into an ink bottle, and began to write.

“Bless you,” Donna said absently.

In response to what, Willow didn’t know, but she replied with, “thanks” all the same.

_Josh,_

_We’re going to a place called Mountain Cove. It’s in northern California. Donna is with me. There’s something she didn’t tell you, and you deserve to know._

_Josh, she’s carrying your child._

_Make this right. I’ll help. I will. I’m done being angry. I’m done blaming you. I have a son to think about. And in a few months, you might have one, too. Or a daughter. I’m not sure. But you’re going to be a parent, and you deserve the chance to prove you can do it._

_There are bigger things in this world than the next election. I hope you can see that._

_Love,_

_Willow_

Willow released a trembling sigh, worrying a lip between her teeth. She glanced to Donna, whose gaze had not moved off the television. Then she looked to Ophelia, who was already staring at her in her knowing way.

Donna didn’t move as Willow stood and released her owl from its cage. She didn’t move when Willow attached the note to Ophelia’s leg, when she opened the window, or when the owl gave a merry hoot and took off into the darkening sky.

In fact, Donna didn’t move until Oz announced, in his newborn fashion, that he was ready for a new diaper.

Donna was in her own little world, and she was there alone.

Though, Willow reflected, casting a glance out the window, hopefully not for long.

*~*~*

“I’m standing here.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Waiting. I’m standing here waiting.”

“We have established that.”

“Do you know what I’m waiting for, Nick?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“I’m waiting to be impressed.”

Hunter scowled and twisted the bobby pin to the left once more. He hadn’t been lying when he said he could pick a lock. He could, and he had a thousand times or so. It just seemed this particular lock, along with everything else, had conspired against him to make him look the fool in front of Rosalie. When he’d first seen it, he’d privately wagered he’d be on the other side of the door in fifteen seconds.

That had been forty-five minutes ago.

It was performance anxiety. It had to be. Rosalie so close, the heat from her body making every cell in his intimately aware of her presence. It didn’t help that every sassy remark that came out of that mouth of hers did little more than twist something inside him he really wished wouldn’t twist.

“I’m thinking we should just head home,” Rosalie said, and he heard a yawn in her voice. “Or let me kick the door in.”

“I’m not letting you kick the door in.”

“I’m sure they’ll replace it before you move in.”

“You’re moving me in here awful quickly.”

“I’m moving to have a place to go during the day that’s not school. Preferably sooner rather than later, considering my fake parents yanked me out of real classes and my real dad doesn’t know that, yeah, I am looking to move you out quickly.” Rosalie shifted. “Can you please just let me kick it in?”

“You’re not—” Hunter cut off as he heard the lock give the telltale click, and his heart leapt into his throat. _Finally._ “Aha. Here we go.”

He forced himself to his feet, his knees popping unpleasantly. Rosalie made a face.

“What?” he asked, defensive. “I was down there for a long time.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

Hunter rolled his eyes and twisted the doorknob. “Your yammering in my ear didn’t do much good, did it?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you couldn’t perform under pressure.”

He scowled and shoved the door open.

And about plowed into Faith.

“What the—bloody hell!”

“Faith!” Rosalie chirped brightly.

Faith stood a few feet from the doorway, her arms crossed and her hip cocked. “’Bout time.”

Hunter’s heart was fighting his ribcage for freedom. He gawked at her. “What… I thought…I thought you weren’t coming.”

She shrugged and tried for what Hunter knew was a fake smile. “Yeah, changed my mind. Hit up a few cemeteries.”

“A few?” Hunter squawked.

“Yeah. There was a ritual sacrifice or some shit going on at Clemmons. I woulda been here sooner, but those Kangalore demons pack a mean punch.” She rolled her shoulder to demonstrate, wincing. “After a couple drinks down at Caritas, I decided to make sure you hadn’t gotten in trouble.”

“There is no bloody way you had time to hit more than one cemetery and get a drink anywhere,” Hunter swore hotly. “And Kangalore demons my arse.”

Faith snickered and dug a hand into her pocket. She grabbed something, then tossed it at him. Hunter caught it, then groaned.

Yep. That was a Kangalore ear. Recently retracted, too. They turned green around the edges after an hour.

“How’d you get in here?” Rosalie asked.

“Busted a window in the bathroom. Nice shower, Nick.”

Hunter groaned and dropped his face into his hands, which was a mistake, as he still held the demon ear, and it smelled something wretched. He jerked and tossed it to the ground.

“Hey,” Faith scolded, picking up her trophy. “These things make wicked key-chains. Don’t go tossing around my spoils.”

“Why didn’t you let us in?” he grumbled.

“Well, I woulda, but you kept telling pint-sized that you had the sitch handled.” Faith shrugged again, and this time when she grinned, it reached her eyes. “I didn’t want to show you up.”

Rosalie cackled, all traces of her former exhaustion falling away. “That’s classic.”

“Yes,” Hunter agreed. “Classic.”

Faith winked at Rosalie, and while the light was back in her eyes, Hunter could tell that whatever had been bothering her back at the Hyperion was not yet behind her. It was subtle enough he figured he only saw it because he knew her so well, but it concerned him all the same.

Even more so when she stepped forward. “Hey, can I see you for a sec?”

“Ew.” Rosalie huffed. “Please don’t have sex while I’m here.”

Hunter frowned, managing to ignore Rosalie. “Everything okay?” he asked Faith.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she nodded toward the kitchen, then turned and stalked off.

Hunter swallowed, dread stirring in his belly. He turned to Rosalie. “Give us a moment, okay?”

“I don’t wanna wait here while you guys make with the orgasms.”

“No one’s orgasming.” His frown deepened. “And please, never say that again.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes and drew her hands up. “Whatever,” she said, and began heading in the opposite direction. “I’m gonna see which of these rooms is best for Watcher-tossing.”

Hunter didn’t bother responding. He hurried after Faith, and found her fidgeting by the dishwasher.

“What’s going on?” he stage-whispered. While he’d seen Rosalie disappear down the hall, he knew the girl’s curiosity was the thing of legend, and if Faith didn’t want Rosalie to know whatever it is she needed to tell him, he wanted to respect that.

Faith shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “I wasn’t gonna blab,” she said. “Still not sure it’s the best idea. I don’t confide, Nick. That ain’t me.”

“I know.”

“But this is…I kinda fucked up.”

“What happened?”

“Earlier. I took Wes off to make sure he didn’t dust the ex-evil asshole, yeah?” She wiggled her shoulders. “Something happened.”

Hunter blinked at her. Surely she couldn’t mean…

Yet Rosalie had said Wes had been acting strange. Spitting out water at the mere mention of Faith.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Really?”

In all his years, he’d never seen Faith look more uncomfortable. If she weren’t so troubled, he might have laughed. But this wasn’t something to laugh at. Wes was better than he’d been, but still in a dangerous gray area. And his relationship with Faith was complicated, to say the least. Always had been, from a Watcher/Slayer dynamic. Faith had always seemed particularly invested in Wes—something Hunter had always assumed had to do with her guilt for having tortured him that one time, but there was more to it than that.

Hunter had never pegged Faith as the type to develop feelings for anyone. But this was definitely feelings. There was no way she’d be this disconcerted after a lay had she not been emotionally compromised on some level.

That had to be killing her.

“Faith…”

“I don’t want a lecture.”

He brought his hands up. “I wasn’t going to give you one.”

“I don’t… Fuck, I don’t even know why I told you.”

“I don’t either, but I’m glad you did.”

“This is weird.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m tryin’ but…” Her leg shook. “I wanna bolt. Bad. That’s what everything in me is telling me to do. Get the fuck outta dodge before I gotta see him again. But there’s Pipsqueak now and all these stupid… I just don’t wanna feel like this.”

Hunter took a tentative step forward. “Maybe it’s good that you do.”

“Bite me.”

“I’m serious.”

She smirked, her demeanor suddenly changing, and she took what could only be called a seductive step forward. “Who says I wasn’t?”

At that, he halted. “No. No, we’re not doing that. You’re feeling something real here. You can’t ignore it. You know that’ll just mess things up for you.”

“Things are _already_ messed up for me.”

“You’re scared. Fucking me won’t make it better. That’s why you didn’t want to come tonight, right?”

“I want to come. Help me.”

“That’s _not_ what I meant and you bloody well know it.” Hunter all but sprinted to the other side of the kitchen, looking around wildly for anything to fend her off with. Which struck him as utterly ridiculous—fighting off a slayer who wanted to use his body to forget her own problems. His life was so strange. “You said no earlier because you knew it’d be a bad idea. Because you’re _feeling_ something now. That was smart. You were right.”

“No, I was dumb. I’ve changed my mind.”

“Faith—”

At that, a pained look entered her eyes, and it nearly broke him. “I can’t feel this way, Nick.”

“What way?”

_“Any_ way. I don’t know what this is, but I know I can’t feel it. Not for him or no one.” She laughed, and the sound was somewhat manic. “Whatever it is, it shouldn’t be here. I shoulda walked it off. It shoulda been gone by now. I went out and I slayed and it won’t fucking go away. Nothing I do helps. My skin feels itchy and my chest is all fucked and _please_ don’t make me feel like this.”

Hunter had seen Faith vulnerable before, but this was something completely different. He didn’t know what to do—all he knew was what _not_ to do. Still, he dared a step forward, and was relieved when she didn’t make an automatic play for his crotch.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said.

“I don’t want to figure it out. I want it gone.”

“I know,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

And perhaps that was for the best. Faith didn’t need platitudes. She needed a friend. That was something he could be.

This was dangerous territory, he knew. Not once in all the years he’d known her had Faith been the type of person to ask for help. The fact that she was now meant she was truly in over her head. That she was afraid. And that he, for whatever reason, was the person she felt she could confide in. The person she felt she could trust.

It was an awesome responsibility, and it spoke levels into how much she cared for him. Not as a lover, but as a friend.

He didn’t even know if she considered him a friend. But he knew she was the best he’d ever had, and in this first real crisis, he wouldn’t let her down. He’d help her figure out whatever she was feeling.

He just hoped he was up to the task.

*~*~*

“Wright and Pryce Investigations: We’ll do it right and for the best price.”

“Where’s my babies, Cordy?”

“…Kelly?” There was a brief silence on the phone receiver. “Why are you calling from some random phone? Is everything okay?”

“My cell phone is dead and where’s my babies?”

“You remember that they are staying with the grandparents, right? You haven’t been gone that long.”

“That’s right!” Kelly smacked her forehead. “Honestly, Cordy it feels like it’s been years since I’ve seen you already.”

“It’s definitely been a long day.”

“Yeah…” Kelly lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think you guys could come get me?”

“I thought you said you weren’t in trouble…”

“I’m not. Per se. I just want to come home and I don’t think Spike will let me. But if you sent Zack and Gunn they could just me up with us by dawn and—”

“Are you trying to run away?”

The voice in Kelly’s ear wasn’t from the phone receiver.

“Shit!” Kelly hissed before slamming the phone down in the cradle. She spun around to see Zack leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom with crossed arms and a bemused expression. “Shut up,” she warned.

“Not saying a thing.” He raised his arms up innocently, but the spark in his eyes was the brightest it had been in nearly a year. It made his mischievous manner feel so familiar and foreign all at once.

“Good.”

“Except—”

“Zack,” she groaned.

“It’s just the first night and you’re already calling to go home?”

“I wasn’t calling to go home!” She marched over to the other side of the room to begin grabbing pajamas from her suitcase. “I was calling to check on the kids.”

“So you just hung up on the kids?”

“No, the kids weren’t there.”

He furrowed his brow in a way she used to find irresistible. “Where are they?”

“With your mom and Giles.”

“Yeah…because that’s what we arranged. So where did you call? The Hyperion?”

“In my defense, that was the last place I saw them. Also, in my defense, bite me.”

All at once a different air filled the room, making it difficult to breathe. Not that she needed air to breathe. And not that the air had really changed. But two little words had two big connotations.

She watched his eyes widen slightly and his nostrils flare. She heard the change in his breathing pattern, and knew it was likely mutual.

She wasn’t sure if there had been a time since they had turned in which the words “bite me” hadn’t inspired…well, biting. It had become their little private message that they were in the mood to sneak off and get a little nasty.

Which reminded her that it had been almost a year now since she had been a little nasty. She’d barely even been able to be a little naughty with herself a couple times. But all at once, she felt those familiar flutters of excitement begin deep down.

“Kelly?” His voice sounded so close and far simultaneously.

“Yes?” She heard a breathless excitement in her tone that she couldn’t quite control.

“Umm…we seem to be out of toilet paper.”

Well, that pulled the train to a stop. “What?”

“Yeah.” His gaze shifted to the floor. “I had popped over to let you know. I took a leak and saw the roll was empty. I knew how much you hated that, so I was just letting you know in advance that it wasn’t my fault.”

“Are you serious?” She could feel the anger rising up inside her. Why in the hell had she felt like that? Why in the hell had she forgot what had happened? Forgot what he had done. And why was she here?

Zack shrugged. “Trust me. You’d of smelt it if I dealt it.”

“Go away.”

And she hated herself for missing that spark in his eyes when he faded away.


	11. Chapter 11

Reality came crashing down on Josh at about 4am. The phone said he had missed seven calls before he answered the White House operator’s call stating he was needed in the Sit Room as soon as possible. He was 50% drunk and 100% hung-over when he made inside 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

“Looks like Russia is playing for all the cookies,” Santos said to him the moment he made it downstairs.

From there, advisors and directors and generals started in. Honestly, Josh knew there was no fucking way he was competent enough to be following what was happening. Bits and pieces were processed by his brain. Russia. Israel. Troops. Threats. Advancing. Stolen weaponry. Bad. Potential big boom. Luckily there had yet to be an action which would require a reaction. But it was enough that Israel’s PM had called Santos to warn him that he better have some options on the table.

Josh didn’t realize the meeting was over until everyone stood upon Santos leaving his seat. “Please keep me informed,” the President said to his team of advisors. “It’s definitely going to be one hell of a day.”

Josh glanced at his watch as he began walking. The day hadn’t even started yet. He wasn’t even sure if he was finished with yesterday. But the world was of his own design, and most of the time he was perfectly at home with the fast-paced, high-stakes, soap opera of national and international politics. Though the last few years had brought with it the comfort that he was fighting the good fight by himself…or for himself. Donna really had saved him more than he had ever given her credit. Just another fucking thing to add to his list of his fucking regrets.

“Josh?”

“Fuck,” he absently responded.

“Lyman?” This time the voice was louder.

He blinked and looked to see they were standing in the Oval Office. He also realized he had just “fucked” the President. “Sorry, sir.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sir. Just contemplating what message we should send to Russia.”

Santos nodded and seemed to buy it. “Yeah, this one is going to be a trick with the trade summit coming up.”

A light tapping noise hit Josh's ears and he began to wonder how drunk he still was. He looked at the other two men who seemed to not notice anything. Then, his eyes glanced to the window. “You've got to be shitting me.”

“What?” the President snapped.

“Oh, fuck.” Yes, he was obviously still drunk. Still drunk and witnessing an owl knocking on the outside door of the Oval Office.

“Josh…” Santos said slowly. “I didn't want to have this conversation now,” he stated as he glanced at the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. “But I could smell the booze on you the moment you came in.”

“What? No! I'm just fine, sir.” Josh looked at the door. He knew that thing. He was pretty sure it was Willow's since she had always been sending Donna messages.

_Donna!_ That bird was likely sending him a message from her. Hopefully apologizing for running out on a fight, but probably giving him a written ass chewing. Either way, it would give him a chance to know that she was okay.

Unless she wasn't okay. A nervous sweat broke out across his skin. If she was hurt then Willow would contact him. She would tell Othello or O'Brian or whatever the bird was named to find him immediately no matter where he was located. Slowly he started moving toward the door. Maybe he could open it, grab the bird and hide it in his jacket.

“Josh,” the President took on the patronizing tone of a disappointed father. “I know your head hasn't been in the game the last few days. And I know Donna didn't up and leave for no reason. So I have to ask if alcohol maybe isn't part of the problem?”

Alcohol? He didn't have an alcohol problem. He had a magical problem. He had a problem with a witch who had to bewitch herself into his life and then go and get knocked up by his best friend. He had a best friend problem with a guy who didn't realize that Josh had been trying to protect him in his own stupid way. And he had a Donna problem because she left. And he was emptier than he had been before she came into his life and filled every part of his heart.

He had to find out if she was okay. Turning away from the President, he opened the door. Immediately the damn bird zoomed inside, but instead of deliver the message, it began swooping around the circular room with angry cries.

“Jesus Christ!” Santos's shouted, flinging his hands over his head. “Call security!”

“No, no, no!” Josh cried. “It's fine! I swear! She's with me!”

“What?” The President looked like he was about to lose his mind. Josh was a little surprised that the Chairman looked stony faced and calm given the fact that there was shrieks and hoots coming from above their heads.

“Yes, she's a pet. Belongs to my friend. I…must've left the window open when I left and she followed me here. I'm bird sitting…you know…like you do for a friend…with an owl.”

“That's it,” Santos growled. “Russia is on the brink of war and you're playing Tippy Hedrin in the Oval Office? I have every right to fire you this second!”

“Sir, allow me to step in,” the Chairman said, really reminding both men he was still present. “Obviously Mr. Lyman is experiencing some personal substance abuse issues that don't have a place in this current situation.” Josh began to open his mouth, but the general shot him a look that clearly said he was ready and capable of murder. “I will escort Mr. Lyman to his office to quietly retrieve any personal items he desires. You should draft a memo informing people that he will be taking a leave of absence to deal with…personal issues. Perhaps I can reach Governor Seaborn to look into overseeing any counseling or rehab Mr. Lyman may need.”

“Sam? Why would you mention Sam? And what makes you think I can't do my job?” The bird was really pissing him off. It wanted a reward, but at this point he thought allowing it to live was being generous.

“Orion! Stop!” Wrong name. The bird swooped down and nipped his arm. “Shit! Oregano! Obama! O'Henry!” He couldn't remember the damn things name. Was it a girl? “Olivia! Oprah! Octavia! Octogon! Octopus! October!” He was gonna start bleeding if he didn't get his shit together. “O'Fallon! Ophelia!”

Finally the owl calmed and gently perched itself on his shoulder. “Ophelia, thank god. Look I'm sorry, but it's not like you ever hang out with me when you come. Besides, I should've got a little credit for remembering the first letter.”

“He's talking to an owl,” Santos said in disbelief. “He's talking to an owl and denying he has a drug problem. How do you know that thing isn't rabid?”

“Trust me, sir,” Josh reassured. “It's fine. My friend…has a magic touch when it comes to animals.”

“Let's go,” the Chairman grabbed him by the arm and began to drag him across the room to his office. The President didn't seem to mind the general taking control of the situation as he called for his secretary to come in. Likely to find someone to write Josh out of his job.

Moments later the door to the Oval Office was shut and the two men were alone inside the office of the Chief of Staff. Josh yanked his arm from the Chairman's grasp and breathed a sigh of relief that Ophelia fluttered over to nestle on the back of the sofa against the wall.

The office was staged the same as his late mentor, Leo McGarry, has done. He used all the same furniture he could get and worked from the same desk as his political father figure. This moment, more so than any of the others, reminded him that he could never fill those shoes. It was laughable that he had even tried. Even through his own battles with addiction and a devastating divorce, he handled his job with honor and respect. Josh had just made a spectacle of himself in the Oval Office while there was an ongoing foreign policy crisis. Maybe he should hand in his resignation.

“I'm going to make this brief,” the Chairman said at last. “Few people have the…knowledge of…the world you have become involved. The Joint Chiefs of Staff along with the directors of the NSA and CIA are well aware. Most of our intelligence comes from our military commanders in UNIT, but we work to keep the circle as small as possible for the sake of secrecy and responsibility.”

Josh blinked. “I'm not sure I'm following.”

“We have information concerning the three previous paranormal security situations you have been involved. The first one was approximately a decade ago when a convergence of forces forced yourself, President Bartlet and other staffers to become untwined in a national security nightmare. There was an incident some years later at a school of witchcraft in England, followed by the most recent event that happened roughly a year ago on the West coast. It's unanimously agreed by all informed parties to keep this as far away from the White House and the President as possible.”

“But President Bartlet—”

“Was unfortunately made aware of a complexity not to be concerned the office of the President. He was unable to be altered, as were you, Miss Moss or Mr. Seaborn. Other staffers who were present that evening were able to have their memories erased for the security of themselves and the country.”

“You tried to erase my memory? You _did_ erase memories? Toby, CJ, Charlie?”

“It was in everyone's best interest. We were concerned that you weren't altered, especially considering your new position in the new administration, but the technology UNIT used is still in its experimental stages. Repeated attempts could cause brain damage and we weren't comfortable taking those chances.”

“This is fucking insane!”

“In all due respect, many of the experiences our intelligence has gathered would suggest you are quite well aware of the fucking insane. The fact that you are receiving correspondence from known witch, Willow Rosenberg, via her delivery owl at the White House along with that.”

Josh again remembered the letter. He made his way over to Ophelia to retrieve it.

“Mr. Lyman, we must get you and Miss Moss as far away from Washington and the President as possible. While we knew you were liabilities, your continued contact with security risks such as Rosenberg, Harry Potter and associates of Buffy Summers put the country at risk. We are not prepared to deal with the greater population becoming known to the presence of paranormal forces. This information would lead to mass hysteria and chaos not only in the United States but globally. There's no chance that a second occurrence involving the White House could go unnoticed.”

Josh had stopped listening. Nothing else mattered. Not the weird secret brainwashing. Not the fact he was practically unemployed. Not the fact that an owl was sitting on his sofa while he got a lecture from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

Donna was pregnant.

*~*~*

Spike steeled his spine, inhaled, then pounded on the door. After a few seconds, he followed it up with a yell. “No use cowerin’ in there, Zangy. My nose is working just fine.”

There was a grunt, then the door opened, revealing a haggard looking Zack on the other side. “You confuse hiding with pissing.” He tossed a glance down the hall. “Sun’s completely down now, so you can’t have me running fire drills.”

“That’s right. We’re going out for nosh.”

Zack frowned. “Umm, by going out, do you mean we have a reservation at TGI Fridays? ’Cause I’m still stocked on the bagged stuff.”

Spike arched an eyebrow. “TGI Fridays? Did at least evil you have better taste?”

“In my defense, it was the first place that came to mind.”

“Still not saying much for your taste, mate.”

“Do you want to tell me what sort of eats you had in mind or keep harassing me?”

“See no reason I can’t do both.” He allowed himself a quick grin. “No, we’re off to do some hunting.”

Zack stared at him.

“What?” Spike asked. “Did I stutter?”

“Hunting. Like Elmer Fudd hunting or Spike’s-off-the-bandwagon hunting? ’Cause I’m fresh out of camo and I’m off the hard stuff.”

“Full of handy excuses, are you?” Spike shook his head. “You forget the forest full of tasty critters just waiting to be picked off by a predator.”

“What?”

“Still not stuttering, mate.”

“Why do I need to hunt woodland creatures?”

“Because they have the added benefit of not being human.” Spike waved to something in the room behind him. “Bagged blood’s just a precaution. In case you’re bloody pathetic and can’t manage to nab a bunny.”

Zack’s brow did not unfurrow. If anything, it crinkled even further on itself. “You’re serious about this.”

“’Course I am. As a bleeding heart attack.” Spike turned and gestured to the hallway. “That itch you feel isn’t gonna fade, sorry to say. It’ll sizzle for a bit, and you’ll fool yourself into thinking you’ve ignored it. But the burn’ll eventually eat you alive. So you gotta learn this.”

Zack snickered. “I think I get plenty of practice. LA isn’t exactly Mayberry.”

“And you feature we’ll be in LA a while then?”

He shrugged. “You don’t?”

Spike’s brows arched. “And just how long is a while, then? Enough to see the kids through school. Bury your mum and Giles. Then Wright and Cordy. And eventually—”

“Don’t,” Zack spat, every line of his face tightening. “Don’t say it.”

Spike blinked. “What? That your kiddos are gonna one day snuff it? It’s not cruel, Zangy, it’s reality. And you know it. However long we have in LA isn’t forever. And then’ll come the day when you really wanna make someone hurt. You think it’ll matter if Rosie’s a hundred and three when she goes? That beast inside you”—he prodded Zack’s chest—”will roar and rage and demand blood. That day comes and you’re gonna need everything you have to make sure you see the end of it still the man your family loves, soul or not. That starts with letting the beast out. On demons, yeah, but you wanna gamble there’ll always be demons around just when you need ’em?”

Zack released a roar, the bones in his face shifting, his eyes flashing yellow. His fists found Spike’s chest with enough force to send the elder vampire to the opposing wall. Dust exploded outward in a cloud of splinters and waste.

The fire behind the outburst faded just as quickly, as Spike knew it would, and he watched from his place on the ground with a sort of grim satisfaction when remorse set in. Not that he necessarily wanted to be tossed around, but the break in Zack’s control had been significant enough to make his point.

Spike waited a moment, then lifted a hand. “You mind?”

Zack, looking thoroughly abashed, obliged him. “Sorry,” he said, his tone low, his eyes full of regret. “I didn’t—”

“Yeah, you did. Or it did. Your inner beastie.” Spike dusted himself off. “And that’s the point, mate. For the second between you stop caring and start again, you’re a live bomb. If you have too much energy pent up, too much restlessness, the explosion might not be one you walk away from. Now…” He jerked his head, motioning to the stairway down the hall. “Let’s you and me go hunting.”

Zack swallowed hard and nodded. He followed without another word.

*~*~*

By the time the Coastal Zipline had made contact with Mountain Cove, the certainty that had hardened Willow’s resolve long enough to see off Ophelia had loosened considerably. While she remained convinced—okay, mostly convinced—that she had done the right thing, a part of her couldn’t help but niggle that taking the decision from Donna wasn’t exactly nobler than Josh’s extreme lengths to keep Willow separated from Sam.

Well, maybe slightly nobler. But definitely underhanded.

As a result, by the time Willow had checked into the Owl’s Branch—Mountain Cove’s resident inn for magical travelers—she had avoided saying a word to Donna. Which didn’t take much, granted, since Donna had remained locked in a blank stupor for the duration of the trip, making only a few grunts or partial words here and there when prodded.

It was a state of mind Willow recalled well, though she hadn’t also been faced with the betrayal of the man she loved. Being pregnant and alone was a terrifying sensation, even for a witch, but at least she’d had the comfort of knowing Sam had no part in her abandonment. And Willow had had nine months to come to term with Josh’s deception, and reconcile his reasons for it. And she’d had the added knowledge that Josh would never have kept her from Sam had he known her circumstances…and that, Josh’s assholery notwithstanding, Willow could have spilled the beans at any time. It had been her pride and stubbornness that had kept her quiet.

And the fact that she shouldn’t have to get a permission slip signed to talk to a guy whose body she’d mapped out with her tongue.

“Don’t give me that,” she told Oz, situating the baby carrier on the neighboring barstool. “You’ll understand this when you’re older. Maybe. If your dad and I don’t screw you up too much.”

Oz, who was fast asleep, didn’t offer so much as a burp in response. Babies, as it turned out, were rather immobile as newborns, unless they were hungry or needed to be changed. She was pretty sure she’d only seen her son’s eyes open once.

Which was just as well. Everyone else in the hotel bar was glaring at her. She didn’t need tiny judgmental eyes on her too.

“Willow?”

She groaned. “Is there any chance I have on an Invisibility Cloak?”

“Even if you did, unless it was my dad’s, it’d be rubbish,” Harry said, sliding onto the barstool on her other side. “So, been a parent for less than a week’s driven you to drink, eh?”

“No.”

The bartender chose that moment to finally fill her Firewhiskey order. The drink materialized before her in alcoholic glory.

“Maybe,” Willow amended, lifting the glass to her lips. “Given that I just gave birth to the illegitimate son of a US politician, I’d say I’m already out of the running for the Mother of the Year award. Might as well enjoy it.”

Harry grinned and motioned to the bartender. In a blink, another Firewhiskey had materialized right in front of him.

Willow scowled. “It took them ten minutes to get mine.”

“Well, to be fair, you came in with a baby and you don’t have a fancy scar on your forehead.” He brushed away his perpetually unruly mane to indicate the scar in question, as though she were in danger of forgetting.

“Potter Impersonator?” the bartender said, moving in their direction. “We get loads of them a week. You’re a bit old, though, aren’t you?”

Harry blinked. “Is Harry Potter not allowed to grow up?”

“Not if he wants to get paid.”

Willow snickered and threw back a mouthful of Firewhiskey. “Never knew you could get steady work on this side of the pond just impersonating yourself, did you?”

“No,” Harry said, his voice reflecting genuine shock. “But that’s brilliant. I can send James over here on holiday. He’s always barking about how no one takes him seriously and how I had all the glory.” He snorted and looked to Oz. “They’re cute now. Wait until they learn to talk and become infested with hormones.”

Willow smirked. “He’s a handful in class. Always showing off. _‘This is how my dad defeated Voldemort—oh, knock it! The name’s not jinxed anymore.’_ ”

Harry groaned and dropped his face into his hands. “Yeah, I think spending the summer making the scenes as a Potter Impersonator would do right by him. I bet Hermione could even give him a scar that passes for real. See how much he likes it.”

“Umm, screaming American fangirls—Muggle and Magical alike—and none of the responsibilities that came with being you? I think he’ll like it quite a bit.”

“Git.”

The bartender, who had been none-too-subtly listening to the conversation, narrowed his eyes and snickered. “You mean to tell me I have the real Harry Potter in my bar?”

Harry looked up. “’Fraid so. Sorry I grew up. Unfortunate side effect of not being Peter bloody Pan.”

“Prove it.”

At that moment, Hermione and Ron strolled into the bar, both looking well travel-worn.

Ron barked a laugh upon seeing Willow nursing a drink, whereas Hermione crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes in an unmistakable sign of disapproval.

“Great,” Willow muttered.

“Willow, I really thought better of you than this,” Hermione said in that terrible _I’m-not-mad-just-disappointed_ tone that had a way of making everyone who heard it feel all of seven years old.

“Yeah,” Ron added. “If you’re gonna get snockered, at least leave the baby with Donna.”

“I’m not getting snockered. I’ve just had a long day.”

The bartender hadn’t stopped glaring at Harry. “So go on, then,” he growled. “Prove it.”

“Prove what?” Hermione asked.

“He says he’s Harry Potter.”

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look, the former’s mouth twitching. “Oh, this rubbish again?” Ron sighed dramatically and moved forward. He flung an arm around Harry’s shoulder and favored the bartender with an apologetic look. “Sorry. He fell off his broom back home.”

“What kind of example are you setting for Oz?” Hermione whispered, having shot to Willow’s side. “Honestly, Willow…”

“In case you didn’t notice, he’s asleep. And if this is his first memory, then that’s some sort of record.”

“Our lot have keener memories, I’ll remind you, than the average Muggle.”

“Yes. But even for _our lot,_ seventy-two hours is pushing it.” Willow eyed her shot glass, unwilling to wait for the otherwise distracted bartender, and watched it refill with the hot liquid. “Hermione, I’m dealing with a cross-country move following a sabbatical I didn’t want while the father of my child deals with knowing he’s the father of my child and my American non-vampire slaying best friend deals with knowing she’s pregnant. Oh, and I might have sent Ophelia to Washington to break the news to Josh, and I don’t yet know how I feel about that.”

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. Even Harry and Ron managed to hear, abruptly ceasing their back and forth with the bartender to gawk at her.

“You what?” Hermione asked.

“Well,” Ron said, “that’s one way to shove it in that wanker’s face.”

“This is why you borrowed my quill, isn’t it?” Harry demanded. “I knew something was up.”

“Look,” Willow said, holding out a hand, “I just…Josh deserves to know he’s going to be a parent, is all. Sam deserved to know too, and look how we’ve bungled that up. Donna’s not thinking clearly—”

“Glad you’re here to think for her, then,” said Hermione hotly. “Willow, this wasn’t your business.”

Willow blinked at her dumbly. She’d imagined Harry would be angry, just because she hadn’t mentioned what she was up to while on the train. But Hermione, who had always been a stickler for rules and fairness, was a surprise. If anything, she’d thought to count Hermione as the one person in her camp.

“Bloke’s gonna be a dad,” Ron said. “I’d be right pissed if you took off and I didn’t know that.”

And there was the other shoe.

“But if I took off pregnant and you didn’t know, it’d be because I had a reason,” Hermione replied. “Probably that you were being a dolt.”

“Oi!” Ron said, bringing up his hands. “What did I do?”

“This is _Donna’s_ baby. It’s _her_ decision.” Hermione looked back to Willow, her eyes heavy with disappointment. “Just like it was your decision not to tell Sam. Do you really think there weren’t times when I thought about sending him an owl? Ginny was working on ways to hook up his office to the Floo Network.”

“She was?” Harry asked dumbly. “How come I didn’t know that?”

“Because she’s a Weasley, Harry. If she didn’t want you to know, she would’ve been discreet.”

“So how come you did know?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured at Ron. “Years of practice.”

“Yeah, well, Ron’s never been discreet, has he?”

“Oi,” Ron said again, wounded. “I’m standing here, you know.”

“The only reason Ginny wasn’t able to get that secured was a complication with the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. The Floo Network isn’t designed to be cross-continental, and she couldn’t guarantee complete security.” Hermione huffed a little, picking an imaginary piece of lint off her blouse. “That, and I used the Confundus Charm on her.”

“You what?” Ron and Harry demanded in unison.

“She was about to send Sam an owl, and was working on getting a portrait sent over anonymously. The one of your Great Aunt Tessie,” Hermione told Ron. “If nothing else, she could make her deliver messages.”

Willow felt whiplashed, numb and a little betrayed. “Ginny did…all of that?”

“She thought Sam deserved to know,” Hermione said. “But I stopped her. I know you had your reasons, and they weren’t our business.”

“Blimey,” Ron said, looking dazedly at Harry. “You piss her off, and you’re done for.”

“Been married to her for a few years now,” Harry replied. “Did you think I didn’t know that?”

Ron gestured at Hermione. “You didn’t know _this,_ did you?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Well… Keeps the marriage interesting.”

“Willow,” Hermione said, ignoring the men, “I never pretended to understand _why_ you kept to yourself with Sam, but I knew that wasn’t my decision to make. And even if I had—or Ginny had—do you think we’d be all right, the three of us, if a fundamental breach of trust had occurred?”

“You told McGonagall about the Firebolt,” Harry said suddenly, his tone sharp and accusatory. “What was that?”

“Apart from about _twenty years ago_?” Hermione snapped. “That was for your own good at the time, Harry, in case you needed to go over it again. Your life was in danger. Willow’s wasn’t, nor is Donna’s. You can’t compare a possibly cursed broom sent from someone we assumed was a mass murderer to getting knocked up and keeping mum about it. They aren’t remotely similar.”

Harry grumbled something and crossed his arms in clear disagreement.

Hermione turned back to Willow. “You know I’m right. This wasn’t your decision to make.”

Willow pressed her lips together and turned her gaze to Oz, who could not be less interested in what was going on around him. The knot in her stomach tightened, and her chest began to burn—though that might have just been the Firewhisky. After a moment, she dragged her eyes up to Harry.

“What do you think?”

“I dunno,” he said. “Honestly.”

“You want her to do the right thing, right?” Hermione said pointedly.

“I’m not convinced your way is the right way,” Harry replied, then turned to Willow. “But I know how angry you would’ve been had Ginny managed to get word to Sam. She would have thought she was doing right, and maybe she would have been, but it is your choice. Still…” He paused. “I think anyone who’s about to be a parent has a right to know it. Not just for them.”

At that, Willow bit her lip. This had been a point of contention with Harry ever since he’d discovered her pregnancy and learned about Sam. He’d been a huge proponent of telling the man he was about to be a father, and he wasn’t without his reasons. Having spent his childhood orphaned and in a cupboard under the stairs, he was particularly sensitive about the importance parents had in their child’s lives.

Granted, the fact that Willow had tried valiantly before giving up to reach Sam had not been ignored. Harry was just of the belief she could have done more.

It was true. Obviously, Ginny had figured several additional ways—obvious ways too. Willow could have, had she really tried.

Had she not been so disgusted with Josh that she’d given up on seeing Sam ever again.

The old hurt roared to life again, but it was duller now. Wiser. She sucked in a breath and looked back to Hermione, whose scowl was so defined it was a wonder it wasn’t permanent.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I’ll tell Donna what I did.”

Hermione’s chin managed to raise a few inches. Any higher and she’d be looking straight at the ceiling. “It’s the least you can do.”

“Yeah,” Ron said uncertainly, as though he didn’t know if he was agreeing with his wife genuinely or out of a desire to appear more courteous than he actually was.

“At least let her know what’s coming,” Harry said, his voice firmer. “She doesn’t deserve to be caught unawares.”

Willow blew out a long breath, ran her hand through her hair, and hopped off the barstool. “Okay,” she said, waving a hand at the baby carrier so it levitated off its stool. “Just so you know, Harry, you and Ginny get Oz if Donna kills me.”

“What?” Harry said.

“What?” Hermione and Ron repeated.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to go to the dad?” Harry asked.

“Why does he get the baby?” Ron demanded. “He and Ginny have loads of brats already.”

“Just the three,” Harry replied.

“Still, one more than us, and you know any child of Willow’s would do better in a house with Hermione. Brainy types need to stick together.”

“Are you calling my wife thick?” Harry demanded.

“No, I’m calling my sister thick.” Ron grinned lopsidedly. “There’s a difference.”

“Boys!” Hermione yelled. They turned as one, and had the good sense to at least fake abashed. Hermione let out a long breath. “Hardly the point.”

Willow just shook her head and motioned at the floating baby carrier. It moved closer to her, and trailed after her as she exited the bar.

Loathe as she was to admit it, she knew Hermione was right. Probably about the whole thing, but especially that Donna deserved to know what was coming. Because Josh wouldn’t take the news that he was about to be a father lying down. He would, to put it mildly, lose his shit, and Donna did not deserve that kind of shock.

Of course, she was about to get one anyway. She was about to learn her friend Willow had gone behind her back.

Yeah, this was not going to be a happy conversation.

Willow huffed in a deep breath and paused in front of the door that led to the room she and Donna shared. She flexed her fingers and rolled her head, stealing a moment to toss a glance at the sleeping infant floating behind her head. “Now would be a great time to start screaming,” she prodded him hopefully.

Oz, however, was in no mood to be cooperative. In his defense, he hadn’t quite managed any mood other than _sleep_ , and given the dirty looks Ron had given Willow when she mentioned that Oz was did little more than eat and doze, that was nothing to complain about.

Still, a distraction now wouldn’t be discouraged.

Since, however, the baby was not complying, Willow had no choice. She squared her shoulders, drew in a fortifying breath, and pushed the door open.

“Josh is doing drugs.”

Willow blinked. “What?”

Donna was perched on the edge of the bed, holding up her iPhone which, Willow saw, was running footage from CNN. There were no televisions in the Owl’s Branch, as the wizarding world relied on little Muggle technology—one of the things Willow would most like to change, as she was addicted to HG-TV.

It seemed Donna had found her way around it.

“Drugs.” Donna shook the phone. “They announced that he agreed to enter a rehab and is likely not to return to work.” She turned her attention back to the small screen, her eyes looking wider, softer, than Willow had seen them in some time. “I don’t believe this.”

Neither did Willow, but she didn’t say that.

Donna looked up again. “Josh doesn’t do drugs. I would know. We lived together. We were…I know him.” A heartbreaking wave crashed over her face. “I knew him. Or I thought I did. Maybe I didn’t at all. Josh… _my_ Josh…he couldn’t have…”

It was then that Donna seemed to see the baby floating behind Willow’s head. “You’re already making this single-parent thing look easy.”

Willow pursed her lips, caught between two choices that seemed equally shitty. While telling Donna that Josh was likely not doing drugs—in fact, very probably nursing a hangover and dealing with the arrival of a surprise messenger owl—was the right thing to do, it was also the hard thing to do. And Willow’s list of hard things to do was insurmountable at the moment, starting with Oz and her headful of confused thoughts and warring emotions on the path she’d chosen. On Sam and everything she’d left behind just when it had been within reach. The pain of being removed—no, _ejected—_ from his life, and the agony of deciding to remain so.

Before returning to America, the future had been set. A quiet life raising her child alone, tending to students, and surrounding herself with good friends. Enough time had cemented that solitary path for her—it wasn’t what she would have chosen, but it was the right choice.

Now that Oz was here, and Sam knew, and Willow had effectively ruined one of her closest friend’s relationships by inserting her own drama into it… Yes, Josh had done the wrong thing, but he wasn’t evil.

Yes, Donna deserved to know, but Willow was too tired to tell her now. And too afraid of the next thing that might blow up in her face. The thing that very likely would.

So instead of telling Donna now, she forced a smile and waved at the baby-carrier, guiding it to the bed. There, she lifted her snoozing son into her arms, which predictably had him stirring with a loud, angry wail—one that was quickly placated by the offer of her breast.

Donna went back to watching CNN. And Willow sat in the room, holding Oz close to her, doing her best not to ponder her aching heart or pounding head. Trying not to think of Sam and failing, trying not to think of how Donna’s world would be even more uprooted soon, and failing there as well.

Mostly, she tried not to think about the thing she needed to tell Donna, waffled between searching for courage and waiting for the decision to be ripped from her. In the end, she decided to give herself one night’s rest to garner her nerves, because the conversation was bound to be an unpleasant one.

*~*~*

There was a sense that Buffy had told her about a long time ago—something that went on inside whenever Zack was near. It had faded over the course of their static marriage—or the marriage that had become static since the Great Resouling—but Kelly had sensed it creeping in, little by little. Which was how she knew, along with her keen vampire hearing, that Zack was not in his room. She hadn’t thought much on it at first, because she also knew Spike was with him. Because she _hadn’t_ tried to listen to their conversation—not at least until it had become somewhat violent—she didn’t know what they had discussed. All she knew was they had talked, apparently fought, though not much, and then left together.

Then, approximately thirty-three minutes ago—approximately, because she had been counting, though not terribly well—Spike had returned. Alone. This Kelly knew because Spike had a certain scent, as well as a certain cadence to his footfalls. And a certain way of screwing her sire, which he had been doing for the past twenty-nine minutes. Approximately.

Zack, however, had not returned thirty-three minutes ago. And for the past thirty-three minutes, nearing on thirty-four, Kelly had been arguing with herself about what—or who—Zack might be up to. She’d contemplated going out in search of him, but didn’t want to seem all that invested. Then she’d wondered how bad it would be if she admitted she was invested, and the pain that thought inspired would shut up her before the cycle started again.

The cycle itself ensured Kelly remained in a state of immobility, straddling the paths of action and inaction, while her inner demon screamed for blood and her inner woman just wanted answers.

When she heard Zack—when the monster that lived beneath her skin purred and calmed—it had been thirty-seven minutes.

Kelly’s feet did the thinking for her, something for which she knew she’d be grateful later. She was to the door before she registered she was moving at all. At the door. Pulling on the door. In the hallway. And there was Zack, fighting with gravity as his hand played with the key-card slot to his room.

He smelled familiar and warm. And also drunk. Most importantly, he smelled not at all like he was wearing the scent of another woman. Just the fragrance of the outdoors with infinitesimal spurts of blood here and there. But not human blood—she knew this too. The vampire nose was one of those bodily enhancements she didn’t know how she’d ever managed without. It told so much in such a short amount of time.

Pity it couldn’t do her thinking for her.

“Zack?”

Zack stumbled against the door and looked up. In the wrong direction. It took him a beat longer than it should to right himself, but Kelly was patient.

Right now. Not always.

When she saw him, she gasped. Tiny scratches marred the side of his face, and his hair was flecked with gray fur.

“What happened to you?” she asked, because while the nose could tell her many things, it couldn’t fill in all gaps.

Zack blinked. “I ate a bunny.”

“You what?”

“Spike made me.” He scratched at his chest with a stupid sort of drunken absence. “It stared at me with its bunny eyes and I…I ate it.” He burped. “Rosie’ll never forgive me if she finds out I ate a bunny.”

“Why did you eat a bunny?”

“Because Spike made me.” He shook his head. “It tasted good, too. I liked catching it.”

“Why are you drunk?”

“Because I shouldn’t like eating bunnies. Especially…it was so cute. A cute little ball of fur that I…” Zack shook his head again. “I don’t like that I liked it. Eating the bunny. What does that make me?”

“A lot of people eat bunnies,” Kelly said, feeling both foolish and strangely lighthearted. Drunk Zack was so much easier to talk to than Sober Zack. At least right now. She missed her talks with Sober Zack more than she would ever feel comfortable admitting.

“Very few people eat bunnies by biting into it while it’s still alive,” Zack argued, his head thudding against the door. “Very few people get to hear the bunny scream as it dies.”

“Anya would be very relieved to learn there’s one less bunny in the world.”

“I guess.” Zack didn’t look mollified, though he seemed to want to pretend, which made her heart well with affection so pure it manifested as a physical ache. Then he looked at the door and sighed. “The key won’t work.”

Kelly’s gaze dropped to his hand. The key was upside down. Biting back a smile, she moved forward and pried the plastic card from his limp fingers. After righting it, she inserted the card into the lock, withdrew, and waited as the door clicked and green light flashed.

Zack beamed at her stupidly, then blinked in surprise, perhaps because she was so close, and dropped his gaze to her mouth.

Kelly still breathed. She didn’t have to, but she did. It was one of those things she’d held onto after she’d formally died. Zack did, too. And his breath mingled with her breath—his smelling faintly of animal blood, fur, and whiskey. Hers coming hard, her dead heart wanting to lurch. Wanting him. Wanting the past two years to be nothing but a bad dream.

But he moved away. Because even drunk, Zack knew what he was.

Her estranged husband.

“Good night, Kelly,” he whispered, and kissed her brow.

Then he stepped into his room, and the door fell shut behind him.

*~*~*

Most people hated change. Rosalie had never been like most people. Her life had always been the poster child of change. This week was no different.

Things were different alright. One, she’d completed her first full week as a high school dropout. She hadn’t really expected to miss it, but there was a small part of her that missed being around someone her own age. Now everyone was way older or way younger. While she didn’t ever fit in, there was something nice about blending into the crowd and being able to watch other kids stress about new clothes, apps on their phone, homework assignments and which one were they gonna take and bang on the weekend. Looking back, maybe she should have taken up the offer from one of brave and few to come up and ask her out.

Hunter’s new place was also a change. One for the better since it gave her a hideaway during the day. She also appreciated not having to worry about catching him and Faith fuck like bunnies around the Hyperion. Surprisingly, she hadn’t found Faith at Hunter’s any morning this week when she used her key to slip in. 

Nope. The routine had been pretty boring. Wake up. Pretend to go to school. Go sleep on Hunter’s couch. Wake up and read or workout with the equipment they had been able to stuff in the loft. Go patrol. Go home. Back to sleep. Rinse and repeat. 

Currently she was curled up on the couch browsing through a book documenting the deaths of Slayers in the 1800s. She knew she should care—did care—about how they had died. But it didn’t stop her mind from wandering to that cute brown-haired guy in her biology class. He’d asked her to Homecoming a few months back. He probably would have kissed her. Maybe even let her try out second base.

Yeah. That was one thing notably absent in all these records. Hardly any of these girls had boyfriends or husbands listed. A couple lived long enough to get hitched and have a kid before being brutally murdered. Living the dream.

Rosalie closed the book. The last girl had lived to nineteen. She wondered if that Slayer kissed a guy before having her heart removed by that Shartocsi demon. Did she die a virgin? Rosalie didn’t really want to die before she got a chance to see what all the fuss was about. 

But she also didn’t want to have her first time go down as a registered sex crime. Twice now it came close. Twice now Hunter had saved her when she hadn’t been able to save herself. Rosalie just wasn’t sure if she’d be so lucky the third time. Or the time after that.

Yeah. Being a virgin sucked. She needed to do something about that. 

“Hey, can you come here?” Rosalie called out. It took less than a minute for her Watcher to make his way over to the sofa and plop himself down on the end nearest her feet. “So this book has me asking a few questions.”

“I thought it might,” Hunter softly replied.

“Yeah.” She paused and swallowed hard as she gained her courage. “So when did you lose your virginity?”

A dark look came across Hunter’s eyes. “What do you mean?” He snapped with such anger she actually blushed and looked away.

“Well…” She stared down at her fidgeting hands. “When did you know…first stick it in a girl?”

“Why in the bloody hell did that book make you ask that question?” His tone had lost the anger and sounded more exasperated.

She was still blushing when she looked up and met his eyes. There were still shadows of darkness behind them. “You first,” she countered.

He was quiet for several moments. She’d began to give up on getting a response. “The first time,” he said slowly, “I was with a woman was when I was thirteen.”

“Damn,” she replied without thought. She noticed how quickly his cheeks reddened as he pulled his gaze down to focus on his own twitching digits. “No, I just mean that I’m sitting over here and haven’t even had my first real kiss and I’m almost eighteen.”

He glanced at her. “Is that what this is about?”

“Well…” 

“I know it’s pretty discouraging to look at those records or look at all of the volumes that have been written about faceless demons and all the ways they can kill you. But I don’t ask because I want you sitting on my sofa writing your own obituary, Rosalie,” he sighed. “Rosalie, love, I do it because you’re better than them. Every last one. None of them were hunting demons before their call. No Slayer in history has also been a Seer. I have you look at those so you can learn from their mistakes. You can be proactive instead of reactive.”

“Yeah?”

“Like I can teach you to fight? You were Chosen with more skills than they ever taught me at The Council. Hell, Faith is just showing you the tips she picked up along the way.”

“Yeah, but I’m not ready to fight alone.” She looked down in embarrassment. “First with Zack…then the other day in the graveyard…you know they weren’t just going to…kill me.”

“I know,” he whispered as he gently rested his hand in her ankle. He gave it a soft squeeze. “That’s why even the best have a team. Support isn’t weakness. It’s strength.”

She swallowed hard. “I just wonder how many of us died a virgin. Or lost it right before they…” she couldn’t finish as she felt tears come to her eyes and threaten to spill down her face.

Hunter didn’t respond. She knew he didn’t know the answer. He just lightly rubbed his thumb back and forth across her ankle bone. 

Finally she thought she could speak. “I don’t want it to be like that. I don’t want to…I want to be in charge of when it happens. You know?”

“Yes,” he said with a crack in his voice. 

She looked up at him. The darkness was there. But mixed with something she had missed before. Pain. “Hunter?” He didn’t meet her gaze, but shook his head forcefully. “Nick, it’s okay.”

He continued to shake his head. “No, no it really is not.”

Pulling herself forward she took hold of the hand upon her ankle. “Nick, I’m sorry. I never should have…I’m sorry I…”

He looked up at her, and her heart broke. “Six.” He shook his head. “The first time they…touched me.” He looked down and she felt him try to pull away. She didn’t let go of his hand. “Ten when a bugger…well…” She squeezed his hand harder. “It happened twice,” he whispered. “Only twice.” He gave a shaky breath, but she felt him ease his resistance to her hold. “Thirteen was a woman who offered me twenty pounds to shag her. I was on the streets by then. Mum had blown off one day I was at school and I didn’t try to find her.” He gave a nervous shrug. “A member of The Council found me picking their pocket a couple days later.”

“Thank goodness,” she whispered.

He looked up at her with his pain-filled eyes. “I’ve never shared that. Not with The Council. Not with Faith. No one.”

“I won’t—”

“I know.” He turned up his palm and took her hand in his. “With all my soul I don’t wish that upon you. I understand your concern, I do. Just don’t…” he looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Don’t rush yourself to something you may come to regret. You’re special. And while sex isn’t special to me…it’s just another physical action, I know it is special when it’s done right. So, just remember you’re special, love.”

As he slowly pulled away and got up to walk to the other room, Rosalie couldn’t help but feel more confused and conflicted than ever. 

Maybe she would call Faith for advice.


	12. Chapter 12

The rest of the trip to Mississippi thankfully passed without incident. They continued as they had—switching off who wore the ring with the person holding the short straw relying on a blanket. At night, Spike would take Zack or Kelly out to hunt for woodland creatures.

Kelly proved to be a quicker study there, which annoyed Zack to no end. Where he hesitated before offing a rabbit, she would tear her way through a forest of Thumpers without so much as a blink. A far cry from the Kelly of before, but this Kelly had her share of anger issues.

Spike didn’t pull into a hotel when they reached their destination, as had been the standard. Rather, he drove them straight to the Natchez City Cemetery.

“We gonna train a bit before we check in somewhere?” Zack asked, taking a look out the window.

“This is the hotel, mate,” Spike replied, shifting into park. “Make yourself at home.”

Zack stilled. “What?”

“What?” Kelly echoed, her eyes wide. “This…you’re joking.”

Buffy shrugged. “Southern crypts have some style, I’ll admit, but none of these look as nice as the ones back home.”

“Why isn’t she saying _what_?” Kelly asked Zack.

Spike heaved a sigh, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel. He had never been a patient bloke and this whole _taking charge_ thing was beginning to edge on his nerves. He understood there’d be some resistance when he first started taking away the privileges they’d grown accustomed to, but neither Zangy nor Kelly were particularly thick. He’d assumed they’d cotton on quick enough and stop questioning every sodding detail.

Wishful bloody thinking, that.

So he decided he’d just stop answering. They would suss out the details themselves.

He glanced at Buffy and was relieved to see she was on the same page, right down to the irritation shining in her brilliant eyes. She met his gaze and offered a solemn nod. They turned in unison and opened the doors to the Winnebago.

“Seriously, you’re not serious, are you?” Zack asked, his voice pitching up a notch.

Kelly, thankfully, seemed to catch on the next second, even if she did so with a long, pitiful moan. “I hate this trip.”

Buffy offered a visibly forced smile. “Really. Never would’ve guessed.” She glanced at Spike. “So we taking the night or getting right down to business?”

“No sense puttin’ anything off, from where I’m standing.” He crossed his arms. “The two of you are getting more bloody leeway than any couple of vamps I’ve ever seen. My first crypt, I had to knick everything myself.”

Zack slid his hands into his pockets, his expression torn between despair and fortitude. At the very least, despite the rather spectacular temper tantrums he’d thrown along the way, he seemed to understand the importance of what was happening enough to stuff it after a moment or two. Spike reckoned he had something to prove to himself, if not to the others. And though Kelly’s whining would grate on the bloody pope, the more charitable, Buffy-influenced part of Spike understood that she was reacting as a mum would. A mum staring down eternity beside a bloke she wasn’t sure she even liked anymore, let alone loved.

So he’d hold his tongue best he could and try not to pop either of them in the nose.

“So the first thing is to find where you wanna park it for the evenin’,” he said. “Better yet, if you’re gonna be shopping for one crypt or two.”

Kelly shot Zack a horrified look. “We’re really staying here.”

He shrugged. “Looks like.” He turned back to Spike. “What will we need?”

“Bedding’s in the back of the van,” he replied, gesturing with his chin.

“Three duffle bags. The smaller two are yours,” Buffy added.

“Why smaller?” Kelly asked.

“Because the Slayer and I are only looking for one tomb, aren’t we? That’s what I meant by one crypt or two. Dunno if you two can be left to yourselves without the kids to hide behind.”

At this, Kelly’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Zack looked mildly irritated but didn’t bother firing back in kind. Instead, he sighed and traipsed back to the Winnebago, only to return a few seconds later with all three duffle bags, the largest he had clamped between his teeth by the straps.

This he deposited unceremoniously at Spike’s feet, likely with more force than necessary.

“There you go,” he said, not looking up. Then he all but hurled one of the smaller ones at Kelly, who caught it just before it collided with her head. “And you.” He turned to Spike, his expression defiant. “Anything else to keep in mind?”

Spike hefted his and Buffy’s duffle on to his shoulder. “I’d go somewhere near the back. These old Southern graveyards are a bloody tourist attraction. If you’re keen on sleeping throughout the day, choose one off the main drive.” He paused. “Oh, that reminds me.” And he turned to Kelly, hand outstretched. “Ring.”

Her eyes rounded. “What?”

“We’re here, we’re going au naturale.”

Zack wrinkled his nose. “You’re going to be naked?”

Buffy smirked. “We’re not _that_ kind of vampire family,” she said as she slipped her own ring off and placed it in Spike’s hand. “Try not to lose it, sweetie.”

He blew her a kiss, then shifted his attention back to Kelly. “Come on, pidge. You chose this, remember? And you’ve had a right old merry time of it ever since. No.” He scowled at her when her eyes went even wider. “Not _that_. But you’ve been playing human, haven’t you? Being a vamp isn’t about daytime strolls and parent teacher conferences.”

“Though you did show to one of those, if memory serves,” Buffy added.

Spike inclined his head. “That one time, yeah, but I don’t think it counts if you’re there to off the teachers, love.”

“There is that.”

Zack turned to Kelly, hesitated, then also held out his hand. “He’s right. We have to do things differently.”

There was another long pause until, finally, Kelly sighed and twisted the ring off her finger.

“I know we have to do things differently,” she said, stomping forward and smacking the ring into Spike’s hand with enough force to make his balance waver. “I know why we’re here. But you keep acting like we’ve done something wrong. All we’ve done is live the same way you have for years.”

“No one’s done anything wrong, Kel,” Buffy replied. “Well, except Zack.”

Zack nodded. “Except me.”

“Even though the whole soulless thing kinda makes that, well…complicated.”

He shrugged.

Buffy turned back to Spike. “So…find where we’re parking for the night. You have anything else in mind?”

He favored her with one of the grins he knew got her knickers wet. “Loads,” he replied. “You pick where we’re gonna stay, love. I’m gonna move the wheels somewhere off road, and see if there’s anything tasty to snack on.”

She kissed him. “’Kay.” Then turned on her heel and marched off without another word.

There weren’t many moments that Spike had anymore where he doubted this was actually his life. Buffy at his side, smiling at him, kissing him, and waking up next to him every day. Yet he couldn’t deny something in his chest tightened as he watched her maneuver between headstones. This wasn’t exactly her idea of a picnic, but she hadn’t complained once.

She understood how important it was—not only for Zack, but for them. For _him._ It was his first time really trying to lead, and though leading was more her thing, she hadn’t tried to upstage him or take the reins. She trusted him to do what was right.

He was one lucky bloke.

“Right then,” he said, clearing his throat. “You two scamper off. We’ll meet back here in an hour to get started for tonight.”

Zack offered a short nod, shifting the weight of the bag on his shoulder. “Roger that,” he said, then turned and headed in the other direction.

By the time Spike slid behind the wheel of the Winnebago, Kelly had collected her duffle off the ground and was hurrying after her husband.

Which, Spike decided, was a very good sign.

*~*~*

This time she was going to do it. She was totally going to do it.

“Willow, do you have a moment?”

If by _it,_ one meant seize the first excuse she saw and ride it until the decision was taken from her hands.

“Sure!” Willow bounced to her feet with such exuberance she nearly sent Oz sailing toward her night stand. “Just let me put the baby down.”

They hadn’t been at Mountain Cove for but a couple hours before Hermione had found three modestly-sized apartments, already furnished, available for a low monthly rate—which she had to remind Ron every time he saw the rental agreement, as he hadn’t quite figured out Galleons to US dollar. Harry had opted to not rent his own place, as he intended to head back to England after wrapping up his visits to the American magical schools. For the time being, he was crashing on Ron’s sofa.

No one had much seen Donna since they’d arrived. She appeared once or twice a day, if only to pay the pizza delivery man, but was otherwise sequestered to her apartment, from which CNN was on nonstop.

Willow had just been planning to head over to do the thing she kept chickening out about when Harry Apparated into her living room.

“How is he?” Harry asked as Willow entered the living room. “Haven’t heard him cry much.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem to be a crier.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Ridiculous how easy he is. James cried so much it rained in the nursery for six months straight. And Albus trumped so hard he was a little baby rocket. We had to jinx the walls to turn to cushions so he didn’t hurt himself.”

It took Willow a moment to translate _trumped_ into _farted_ , then she burst out laughing at the visual. “Oh man. I wish I’d seen that.”

“No you don’t. The sight comes with the smell, and it was awful. I didn’t know something so foul could come out of such a cute package.” Harry shuddered. “All that to say, you’re getting off easy.”

“Yeah, well, there were two of you at least. I’m okay with the lack of shenanigans.”

“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you. You know Sam would be here in a bloody blink if you—”

Willow held up a hand, her good spirits plummeting. “We’re not going there, remember?”

Harry scowled and crossed his arms. “You know I’m right.”

“We’re not going there.” Willow sighed. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“What? Oh, right. It’s about Sparrowfield. I know Hermione told you about it.” Harry rubbed the back of his neck. “Pogs-Gumble, too. The owl just arrived. They want a visit from the both of us. You to talk to the students in Muggle Studies and me to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Though I think you should come to that, too.”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

“Well, you went dark that one time, right?”

Willow shifted uneasily. “Harry…”

“Come on. It’ll be a laugh.” He paused, then smirked. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about this a bit. I think we can have a bit of fun while we’re there. And who knows? Maybe it’ll keep the bloody Americans from inviting us back.”

Willow’s eyebrows winged upward. “I’m listening.”

*~*~*

Josh had been talking nonstop, which Sam could appreciate until the moment the Mountain Cove sign had disappeared behind them. The drive from Oakland had been largely uneventful, except every mile the rental car had lapped had brought him closer to Willow, and that couldn’t help but inspire a fount of nervous tingles in his belly.

Willow had made a lot of points. Many of them had been good ones. Their lives were bound to be complicated, and his political career could well be over, but there were more important things than politics. Like a family. Like her. Like the child they had made together. Or the decision she’d made independent of him to not involve him at all. Not that it had entirely been her fault.

And though Sam entertained the occasional urge to smash Josh’s side of the car into the nearest ravine, he knew his former best friend had had his best interest at heart.

Except where Josh had taken the license to run his life…well, that was another story, one Sam couldn’t broach without his muscles bunching and the vein on his forehead threatening to pop. But Josh had problems of his own at the moment, and despite how much Sam disliked him at the moment, he had to keep his focus.

On Willow. On Oz. On the life he wanted to build for her. With her.

“She’s never gonna speak to me again,” Josh moaned, staring out the window. “And how are we gonna find them, anyway? Do you know magic?”

“No,” Sam said resolutely. “I’m working on it.”

“On learning magic?”

“On how we find them.”

Josh nodded absently. “’Kay,” he said.

And the car fell silent again.

*~*~*

Spike shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. The crypt Buffy had selected was smaller than the one he used to call home, but it was rather homey. Already she had set up their bed—an inflatable mattress, decked out with his favorite sheets—and lined the ledges with candles. The sarcophagus was now lined with a long black sheet, upon which she had situated their favorite weapons. Mr. Gordo, the stuffed pig she’d had since childhood, held a place of honor atop the crossbow Wright had made Spike when he’d left Los Angeles years ago—before the spell that had robbed them of their memories of each other had taken hold.

“Well,” he drawled, “doesn’t this look right cozy?”

Buffy shrugged. “I do what I can. You find a place for the Winnebago?”

“Yeah.” Right down a stretch from a gorgeous vintage Impala that had made Spike ache for his old DeSoto. Bloody great car, that had been. “Ready to see if Zangy’s still kickin’?”

“I think Kelly invited him to stay with her. Something about a graveyard giving her the wiggins.”

Spike snorted. “If all it takes is one little night in a cemetery to get those two back together, then Zangy’s gonna owe me forever.”

“I think he already does,” Buffy replied dryly, and that look he hated so much fell over her face—the one where he knew she was reliving something awful, but wouldn’t tell him what. She’d been adamant on keeping the details of her incarceration and torture to a minimum out of a desire to make it easier on Spike not to stake his best friend. But sometimes, not knowing was even worse.

“Right then.” Spike swallowed and reached for her hand. “Ready?”

She expelled a deep breath, shifted her shoulders, and nodded. “Yeah. Ready.”

They found Zack and Kelly standing between two headstones, the distance between them pronounced, as though Zack wasn’t sure how close he was allowed to be to his wife, and Kelly didn’t want to tell him.

Well, that would work well enough for what he had planned for the evening.

“Find a nice place?” Buffy asked.

Kelly looked like she didn’t know whether or not the question was a serious one.

Zack shrugged. “Not as bad as I would’ve thought. You know, for a graveyard.”

Kelly turned to him and gave him the same look.

“Right,” Spike said, clapping his hands together. “So…tonight, we’re gonna do violence.”

Kelly blanched. “What?”

“It’s a part of being a vampire, innit? We get our jollies from giving and taking hits. Well, that’s one way we get our jollies.” He nodded at Zack and Kelly. “Slayer and I already have this dance down.”

Buffy nodded, shrugging. “It’s pretty much what we do best.”

“Except for shagging.”

“Well, one leads to the other.”

He winked at her.

Zack frowned, looked between Spike and Buffy, then at Kelly. “Wait,” he said. “You want me…to _hit_ her?”

“Well…yeah.”

“A part of being a vampire is being an abusive husband?”

Spike scowled. “It’s not abusive. It’s foreplay.”

“Well, you’re not seeing me do that, either.” Zack crossed his arms, scowling. “How is this about being a vampire?”

“It’s about accepting what turns you on,” Buffy said patiently.

“It doesn’t turn me—”

“And what your demon needs,” she continued, “even if you don’t feel it, or aren’t brave enough to admit it.”

Spike beamed at her. “Wanna show ’em how it’s done, kitten?”

She smirked and spread her hands. “Of course.”

They took position across from each other, as they had on so many other nights. Buffy raised her fists, regarded him with a nod, then took a swing. Spike dodged with a laugh and caught her fist when she tried again.

“Come on, love. That’s—”

Her knuckles met his cheekbone and he went soaring into the nearest headstone.

“Brilliant,” he coughed.

Buffy grinned at him, then turned to Zack and Kelly. “All right,” she said as Spike climbed to his feet. “Your turn.”

“You’re nuts,” Zack muttered, shaking his head. “You’re both nuts.”

“Fine,” Spike said. “Kel, why don’t you take a swing?”

“She’s not going to—”

Kelly shrugged, pulled her arm back, and sent Zack flying a good twelve feet across open cemetery. He landed with a resounding _crack._

“Ow.”

“Well,” Spike said, “we see who wears the pants in that family.”

“Nice right hook, Kel,” Buffy praised. “How’d that feel?”

Kelly looked up, her eyes shining. “Can I do it again?”

“I—”

But a roar claimed the air, and the next thing anyone knew, Zack was in full game face, rushing back, yellow eyes narrowed with intent. Kelly looked surprised, but it didn’t last. Instead, she raised her fists and readied herself, something like a smile crossing her lips.

That was, until, the sound of a gunshot rang through the night and Zack tumbled to the ground in a heap.

The response was instantaneous. Kelly released a roar that could break marble, her fangs descending. Buffy drew a stake from her back pocket, suddenly all business, and Spike felt his own fangs explode into his mouth.

“Yeah, you don’t wanna do that,” drawled a deep, unfamiliar voice from his left. Spike whirled around and found himself staring at the business end of a Colt .45. “Or maybe you do. Doesn’t matter. I’m about to blow that ugly head right off.”

With an eerie calm that never preceded anything good, Buffy stepped forward. She’d managed to keep from letting her bumpies out, but Spike could tell it was a narrow call. Which was all well and good. If she gave him an opening, he was going to take this prat out.

“I’d be very careful if I were you,” she said calmly. “In fact, I’d turn around and get the hell out of Dodge.”

The gun-wielding ponce had the nerve to look her up and down, then delivered a slow smile. “Well, sugar, you aren’t me. If you were, you’d know that I’m not the kinda person to stand aside while some fang-bang wannabes tear through town. Sorry to bust up the party, but it ends here.”

Buffy just stared at him for a long moment, then barked a laugh.

“Well, hell.” She turned to Spike. “He had to go and piss me off.”

Spike snickered, drawing a line down one incisor with his tongue. “Not good for you, mate.”

And then she was in motion—a bloody sight to behold. The gun-wielding jackass had time to look confused, then surprised, before Buffy launched herself into the air and crashed down on him with a roar.

*~*~*

There were some things in life nobody took for granted. It didn't matter if you were a Slayer, Watcher, hunter, child, adult, human or demon. No creature could deny the comfort and joy that came from a home cooked meal. 

Rosalie knew Melody Morris wasn't really her grandmother. Just as much as Cordy wasn't her birth mother. Well, at least Cordelia had married her dad and had given her a baby sister. Melody was really just the woman who married her psycho grandfather and given her an uncle who he’d then made try to kill her and everyone she loved. But dammit, grandparents didn't grow on trees and she always wanted someone to bake her cookies and make her pot roast and give her little presents and smiles and hugs. Melody Morris had proved her worth over the last year, and in Rosalie's heart that made her Nana M.

Her dad wouldn't admit it, but she caught the way he had softened over time. She guessed Nana M was a little more like the mom he'd wanted too. 

Tonight's menu had brought out the whole crew. All the occupants of the Hyperion had managed to be present at dinner along with Hunter, Lisa, Giles and the Morris kids and even her favorite demon, Lorne. She just hoped she didn't get so excited she sang to her food.

Pot roast, potatoes, corn and yeast rolls filled the air as everyone gathered around the massive dining room table Cordy had insisted Gunn and Dad make her for Mother's Day. It could have sat Spike, Buffy, Kelly and Zack…though she didn't foresee that last one coming up for dinner anytime soon. 

When the go was given, everyone found a spot and the food made its way around the table. Conversations took on a similar pattern of the Watchers all talking amongst themselves about something British and boring. The hunters were talking about the latest baddie to be listed in the book of the dead. And Lorne was captivating the ladies with a story about the time Prince came to Caritas and played Purple Rain. 

Rosalie did the best she could to try and follow everything. Except the boring British stuff. Though she did keep catching Hunter's eye when she tried to subtly check up on him. He seemed his usual self, but if they locked eyes too long he'd give her a warning look. 

“So is Prince a demon?” Melody asked.

Lorne had a mouthful of potatoes, but quickly swallowed. “No,” he said before clearing his throat. “But the man has one hell of an entourage. I practically begged him to let me join the band.”

“What'd he say?” Lisa asked in awe.

Lorne sighed wistfully as he looked off in the distance. “Told me that I'd steal all his luck with the ladies. Sweetest rejection I had since John Lennon.”

Rosalie turned her attention away as she knew another long celebrity story was about to get started. Gunn, Faith and her dad were laughing about something.

“In the ass?” Gunn cackled.

“Hand to God,” Wright said putting his fork in the air. “I pulled that thing right out of the asshole.”

Faith snickered. “Were you aiming to give him a rim-job or did it turn into surprise sex?”

“He jumped!” Wright protested. “That was supposed to be a fucking head shot. I figured it was too focused on the guy he had cornered, but he shot up like a fucking spring when he heard that bow click.”

“Bet that brought him back down pretty fast.” Gunn chuckled. 

“He lost his shit,” Wright teased. “Well at least he did after I pulled that arrow out.” He was laughing so hard now his eyes were glazed with unshed tears. 

“Really?” Faith groaned. “There's a rule against shit stories while I'm eating brown gravy.”

“A rule?” Gunn was laughing so hard he could barely speak.

“Yeah,” Faith said before taking a huge bite of mashed potatoes and gravy. “You don't tell a jizz story if the gravy's white either. No puss during banana cream pie. And blood…well fuck who cares about blood? But you know there's some rules.” She paused again to shove part of a roll in her mouth. “Oh,” she said still chewing. “No fucking on the table.”

Wright chuckled. “Is murder off too?”

Faith shrugged. “Depends on the meal. Roast, no go. Pizza, maybe.”

“Tell Cordy that. She mentioned Chuck E. Cheese for Kelly's birthday party.”

“Fuck that,” Faith said before getting hardcore back into her food.

Dinner finished with the food going to the kitchen and ice cream being passed around. Everyone was stuffed, slow and content. Rosalie figured now was gonna be the best time to catch Faith in a chatty mood. 

Once she saw the elder Slayer make her way back to the kitchen, Rosalie made her move to discreetly follow. “Hey,” Rosalie said awkwardly once she made her way inside.

“Hey,” Faith returned with her head in the fridge.

Rosalie waited until she turned around, shutting the door before twisting the top off a beer bottle. “You still hungry?” Faith asked.

“God no. I don't think my pants fit anymore.”

“Yeah,” Faith sighed with satisfaction before taking a long swig of amber liquid.

“So...I was wondering if I could talk to you?”

Faith cocked a brow. “You are.”

“Well…in private.”

The dark-haired woman looked grandly around the room. “We are.”

“About private stuff.”

“Damn, girl, you take this any slower I'm gonna fall asleep on the mashed potatoes.”

Rosalie chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. You're right. Sorry.”

“Rosalie—”

“I want to have sex!” she cried out in nearly shout.

Faith grew wide-eyed. “Fuck.”

“That's kinda the point, yeah.”

The older woman began to snicker. “Not the fuck I meant, but I guess that works. What brought on the rush? Can't get off on your own anymore? Because there's BOBs for that.”

“Who's Bob?”

“Battery Operated Boyfriend. There's no shame taking control of your own situation downtown. And BOB doesn't demand anything but fresh Energizers.”

“No.” God she was just humiliated now. “Downtown is…fine.”

“Really? Because I told you before that slaying makes you horny. It's just part of the package. And maybe you're a quiet one, but I haven't gotten any Stella gettin' her groove back from you lately.”

“Faith, just…stop.” The raven-haired Slayer looked much too amused for comfort.

“Whatever. You came to me.” Her eyes grew wide. “You're not asking me to give you a go, are you? Look, kid, I'm flattered. There was a phase, but even then you just weren't my type.”

“Faith.”

“Okay. You were kinda my type, but still. That ship sailed, honey.”

“I need to lose my virginity.” She paused. “To a penis.” Another awkward pause. “Attached to a man.”

“That still leaves a strap-on.”

“You know what I mean!”

Faith leaned against the fridge and downed the rest of her beer before dramatically placing it on the counter. “So Rosie needs a riveter.”

“I just…I decided…”

“If you can't say it, you can't do it.”

Rosalie took a deep breath to steady herself. “Twice now I've almost been…well, raped. And most Slayers don't even get to have a first time. If I do, and I plan on it, I want it to be my choice and on my terms.”

Faith nodded. “Gotcha. That actually makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Normal. Healthy actually.”

“Yeah?”

“But the question comes at where to find the dick.”

Rosalie sighed in relief. She got it. “Exactly!”

“Damn the whole high school thing would come in handy about now. You got any guys you can call?” Rosalie shook her head. “No dude made a play? Slipped you his number? Facebook?”

“Nobody I want to…pop the cherry.”

“Well if you're wanting quick and easy, you can't wait on Prince Charming to come riding up. You're not looking for Mr. Right. You're looking for Mr. Right Now, Hard and Horny.”

Before Rosalie could comment, the kitchen door swung open. “Hello.”

“Nicky, we're kinda in the middle of a party,” Faith drawled. “And you weren't invited.”

Hunter gave Rosalie a look that said he hoped she wasn't talking about what she was totally talking about. “I just stopped by because I fancied a roll.”

Faith groaned. “I told you that on nights Melody makes a big meal, I shut down for service. Digestion trumps fornication.”

“Bread,” Hunter snapped. “I fancied a roll of bread.”

“Oh,” Faith replied with a shrug. “Well, good. I'm already stuffed tonight.”

Rosalie had to hold back a snicker as Hunter went over to the counter and picked up a yeast bun. Then he lingered as he decided to make himself a little roast sandwich.

“You know,” Faith said irritability. “We aren't going to suddenly forget you standing over there.”

“Of course not,” the Watcher countered. “I'm unforgettable.”

“Get out,” Faith demanded.

“Fine.” He grabbed another roll and shot one last glance at each of them before walking out.

“Yeah,” Faith said as soon as the door closed. “I can see how the whole choosey thing might be good.”

“Regretting that decision?” Rosalie had no idea why she asked. She didn't really want to know the answer.

“Nah,” Faith said after a minute of staring at the door Hunter has passed through. “He isn't too kinky to be a turnoff. He's good with no commitment.” She cocked her head and gave a small smirk. “He does know what he's doing.” She looked to Rosalie. “Don't ever tell him I said that.”

Rosalie couldn't help but feel a little icky at the thought. “Yeah.”

“But yeah. He's lame and nerdy and British and almost too vanilla sometimes, but he works. It's not about Mr. Right. It's about—”

“Mr. Right Now.”

“And Hard and Horny. Those last two are the deal breakers. If you can make them hard and horny you're set.” Faith winked. “Luckily if you try, it doesn't take much too make that happen.”

Rosalie just needed to find the courage to try.


	13. Chapter 13

Several things were happening at once. Even with Kelly's heightened abilities, it was overwhelming. After a moment that felt like years of remaining frozen, she found her instincts brought her to her knees in front of Zack's bleeding body. “Are you…?” She whispered as he laid face down on the grass. 

He blindly reached out and grabbed the hand that was steadying her on the ground. He gave it a squeeze and emitted a quiet groan. “No,” he choked. “Hit my lung.”

Kelly swore under her breath and then looked over to where Buffy had the bastard pinned down. She wanted to go rip his throat out. The fact she never had felt such an intense…desire…for violence made her take pause.

“Kel,” Zack whispered. “Smell.”

She looked down at him in confusion. But she inhaled a deep lungful of the night air and immediately understood. “Where?” she said, her eyes suddenly scanning all at once.

“Don't. Know.” Her husband gasped. “Spike,” he said louder. 

Kelly looked up to see that Spike was pretty distracted at the moment. She couldn't really see Buffy from her crouched position, but the amusement on their leader's face said the Slayer still had the upper hand. “Spike!” she cried out.

“It's a bullet, pidge. He's gonna pull through.”

He didn't even look her way. Kelly released a growl. “Spike!” she said more forcefully.

“Kel—”

“Smell!” Zack raised his head and roared before flopping back down with a violent stream of coughs.

Kelly thought he hadn't heard. Spike didn't make a move. Didn't even seem to acknowledge a thing. But she saw his nostrils flare and his eyes darken. He took a slow step toward his wife and she knew he recognized they weren't out of danger.

There was someone else out there.

“So,” Spike said with icy calm. “Looks like we have ourselves a hunting party. We can do this one of two ways.”

“Yeah,” the guy on the ground countered before spitting what sounded blood. “And both are gonna end with you dead.”

Spike chuckled. It wasn't a pleasant sound. “One, your partner in crime comes out and we let the Slayer decide what she will do with the lot of you.”

“Yeah, because a chick nicknamed Slayer is gonna just let us go with a slap on the wrist.”

“Title,” Buffy responded. “And how hard a slap depends on how well you follow option one.”

“Two,” Spike continued. “Your little friend lurks in the shadows until I get right pissed. That's when me and the one you _didn't_ hit with your poncy-ass excuse for a proper stake decide to go do a little hunting of our own. And considering it's her husband you just tried to murder, I'd expect she has a little rage built up. A little craving she's holding back. To rip someone's fucking throat out.”

Kelly thought she could almost hear a rustle of leaves far off to her right. She focused in the shadows, but couldn't see anything past the first few feet of darkness.

“Sammy!” the guy on the ground cried out. “Don't listen to them. I got this.”

“Honey,” Buffy drawled. “Right now the only thing you've got is a likely concussion.”

Kelly heard some movement as she expected the hunter tried to make a move. She heard a crack and him admit a deep guttural groan. “Ow!” Buffy snapped as she popped up into view. Kelly saw her holding what she thought was…a syringe. “Spike, I think he just tried to give me tainted blood. Why would he do that?”

Spike made way to his wife and grabbed the needle, bringing it up to his tongue. “Blood. Human. Really?” He looked to the ground. “Not tainted.” He tasted the needle once more. “Diabetes. Did you try to give my wife diabetes?”

“Dead man's blood.”

Spike and Buffy just stood over the guy blinking. “You gave me dead diabetes blood?” she asked. “Why? You thought maybe I'd need some OJ? You can't make me go all Steel Magnolias.”

“Poison.”

Spike shook his head and tossed the syringe over his shoulder. “First guns, now this. Fuck, Slayer now I'm even feeling sorry for these kids. And you know how pissed that makes me.”

“Yeah.” Buffy nodded. “I don't think we can off a couple wannabe vampire slayers. Kinda goes against my whole deal as the original vampire slayer.”

“Huh?” the guy croaked.

“Yeah,” Buffy sighed and turned to Kelly. “Calm down, Cujo. We're gonna release them back to the wild.”

“But Zack—”

“Is a big boy,” Spike finished. “And even he doesn't want a death this lame to deal with.”

“Yeah,” the bleeding vampire agreed, rolling over and sitting up painfully. Kelly grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him as he struggled to stand. He pressed himself up against her as he tried to breathe. There was a thin trail of blood running from his mouth down his chin, which she suspected was due to his forgetfulness concerning the unnecessary need to keep trying to use a lung full of blood.

“Okay,” Kelly conceded when she realized all eyes were focused on her. 

“Good,” Buffy said flashing her a smile. “Now then…” The Slayer bent down and grabbed the shooter with one fluid motion. “Someone wanna come out and claim their package? I admit he got a little banged up in delivery, but I'm kinda like the postman. If it fits, it ships.”

*~*~*

Faith sat on the floor of her bedroom, a bottle of Jack at her side and the wall at her back.

She figured she’d done a decent job of keeping her shit together through dinner. Even enough to pass along some likely-relevant advice to her favorite surrogate kid-sis. Wes’s absence from the table hadn’t been addressed, but it had been pronounced in a big way. And she hadn’t missed the looks Hunter had thrown her either—those telling her that she needed to figure her shit out.

That was when he wasn’t furtively looking at Rosalie and trying to glare her into silence.

Which meant, natch, that Hunter had told Rosalie something he didn’t want spread around. He’d acted the same way after he’d let slip to Faith that his secret favorite song was “Oops: I Did It Again” and that he had a special dance he’d choreographed for it and everything.

Well, the dance part hadn’t come out until he’d been stupidly drunk, but he’d let slip the Britney Spears love while cold sober. Then he’d jumped a mile and a half every time she opened her mouth when in the presence of others, clearly terrified she’d rat him out.

And Faith might have ratted him out had it not been so fucking funny to watch him worry about it.

So Hunter had shared something with Rosalie and he was afraid she’d blab. Sure, Faith was curious, but she wasn’t going to push. At her core, Rosalie was a good girl who wouldn’t betray a confidence. But she was also an easily suggestible girl who had unfortunately decided Faith was her role model.

Which would’ve been funny if it weren’t so freaking sad. Faith was the last person to come to for relationship advice, and if tonight’s sex talk was any indication, she might cross that boundary soon.

And Faith, while fairly educated in sex, knew precisely jack about relationships. Which was why the pesky feelings she seemed to have caught for a certain former Watcher of hers were so damn annoying. Not to mention terrifying.

Because people who got close to her—people she really loved—had a bad habit of being evil or dying or both. And sure, she loved Rosalie in the surrogate big-sis kind of way, but the only person she’d really loved, beyond just tolerated, had happened to be a psychotic madman hell-bent on becoming a giant snake. That love hadn’t been sexual, but it had been deep and real. And it had turned her into a version of herself that she’d spent years trying to outrun.

Not that Wes was going to hatch a plan to become a giant snake, but the feelings he evoked were deep and personal. She didn’t know why—why she could fuck Hunter on the regular and not expect as much as a text from him on Valentine’s Day but throw in with her former Watcher for one ill-advised fuck against a wall and catch feelings.

All she knew was there was something in Wes that spoke to her. That darkness, perhaps. Or the want of something beyond it. While she’d had her fair share of bedmates with a sordid painful history—given how little Hunter liked talking about his childhood, she guessed he numbered among them—Wes was the only man she’d been with whose dark history had less to do with what happened and more to do with himself.

They’d both encountered tragedy and made piss-poor choices as a result. They’d both hurt people. And they both wanted now to absolve their sins.

That made her feel connected to Wes in ways she’d never been connected to anyone.

Faith sighed and rolled her head back against the wall. Yeah, there was that panic again. Clawing up her chest and making her lungs work overtime. Only the manic _somebody please fuck this outta me_ sensation had faded. She hadn’t expected it to, but it had all the same.

Which meant, on some level, she wanted to know what this meant for her. Or what it could mean for her, even if she was terrified.

_That’s some stellar personal growth there._

Faith snickered and took a drag off the bottle at her side. Her throat burned pleasantly as the alcohol made its way down. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone.

Only she hoped she hadn’t had so much she didn’t regret what she was about to do in the morning. She didn’t think she had—the room didn’t tilt when she climbed to her feet and her head didn’t have that soft, foggy edge it did whenever she got spectacularly drunk. No, on the whole, Faith felt pretty damn sober.

She wasn’t sure yet whether or not that was comforting.

“All right,” she muttered. “Let’s do this thing.”

She made her way into the hallway—sans liquor bottle—and walked the familiar steps to Hunter’s room. He’d decided to crash there that night after having had too much to eat and a bit too much to drink. Tonight, Faith was glad. She’d have a lot more opportunities to talk herself out of what she was about to do if she had a freaking commute.

It took only a handful of seconds for Hunter to answer after she knocked.

He met her eyes and groaned. “I thought we’d decided we weren’t doing this tonight on account of being too bloody stuffed.”

Faith wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”

“Faith, I’m sorry. I’m just not in the mood.”

“To talk?”

“To fuck.” He paused, then frowned. “Wait. You want to talk?”

“You want to fuck?”

“What? No! I just said I _didn’t._ Much fun as it is, I think I’d end up yacking all over you.”

“Glad to dodge that bullet then, stud. I’m not here for cock.”

He blinked. “So you…you do want to talk.”

“Just got something I need to say.”

“Did…did Rosalie tell you anything?”

Faith rolled her eyes. “No. But your ongoing paranoia is really fun to watch.”

“I am not paranoid!”

She arched an eyebrow.

Hunter went slightly red and looked down. “I just yelled that, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but on the plus side, the whole hotel knows you’re not paranoid now.”

He sighed and slammed his head against the doorframe. “Bloody hell.” A pause, then he peeked an eye open and said, “What did you want to talk to me about, then?”

Faith wet her lips, hesitated to make sure she really wanted to do this, then soldiered on. “I think we should cool it.”

Hunter just stared at her for a moment. “Cool what, exactly?”

“The fucking.” She shrugged a shoulder. “Been thinkin’ about…what I told you earlier. You were right.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry. What was that?”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Seriously, could you repeat that?” He leaned forward, tilting his left ear toward her. “I’m pretty sure my hearing’s gone out because I could’ve sworn you just admitted I was right about something.”

Faith smirked. “You know the saying, even a broken clock is right twice a day? Well, now you can brag that you’re almost as good as a broken clock.”

His smile withered a bit. “You can’t let me have one, can you?”

“Not in my nature.” She paused. “So you’re cool with the ceasefuck?”

Hunter’s lips twitched. “Of course. Seems about right, too. To continue after I move out would’ve been a little difficult, seeing as you typically boot me out after we’re done, and it’d be bloody awkward to be thrown out of my own flat.”

“I don’t… _always_ kick you out.”

“Usually not when we’re in my room, no.” A beat. “Usually.”

“Yeah but you were kinda asking for it.” She waved a finger in his face. “I warned you what would happen if you tried to freaking cuddle.”

Hunter snickered and dragged a hand through his hair. Then his expression softened and she knew he was about to get serious. “So,” he said, “you’re gonna go for it with Wesley, then?”

“Did I _say_ that? I’m just cutting off your all access pass to slayer pussy.”

“If you have feelings for him—”

“Nicky, do yourself a favor and shut the fuck up. We’re not gonna go from fuck buddies to girlfriends. I got some shit to work out and I don’t need advice. If I do, you’ll know it.”

Hunter brought his hands up. “Fair enough.”

“Good.” Faith looked at him a moment longer, not quite sure how to end this conversation. She was in new territory no matter which direction she looked. “Well, thanks for the orgasms.”

Hunter chuckled. “Same.”

“You’re not gonna be weird about this?”

“No weirder than usual.”

“Then I might not have to kick your ass.”

“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse to eventually.” Hunter stepped back and began closing the door. “Good night, Faith.”

She saluted, relieved for the out. “’Night Nicky.”

The door closed. “Don’t call me that,” he called from the other side.

“Zero chance of that happening, bud.”

She heard him mutter something but couldn’t work out the words. Not that the words themselves mattered—it was the tone that she cared about. It meant was things weren’t going to change. While Faith hadn’t been too concerned about losing Hunter as a friend—seeing as they’d been casual lovers for years now—prior to reuniting in Los Angeles, they hadn’t had a streak that lasted more than a week. It was easy to slip back and forth between roles when the guy you were banging was going to be on the other side of the world in a handful of hours. Going from infrequent fuck buddies to fucking on the regular hadn’t seemed significant until recently—and not because of feelings, but because of how the arrangement might affect their friendship when they reverted to platonic besties.

Because if Faith was honest with herself, she valued Hunter’s friendship more than just about anyone’s, except maybe Rosalie. And Buffy too, though that was a whole different kind of complicated. And while she trusted that Hunter had maintained his end of the bargain—no feelings, just physical—there was always a certain amount of awkward that guys seemed incapable of avoiding when it came to sex.

Luckily for her, Hunter got all his awkward out _during_ sex. There wasn’t any left over.

Satisfied, Faith strolled back into her room, feeling lighter than she had in days.

That was until she saw who was sitting on her bed.

*~*~*

Buffy was getting tired of holding the dude. Not because he was heavy, but because he wouldn’t stop wiggling. In that, he reminded her of turtle she’d captured as a child. Damn thing was always trying to make a break for it, and snapping at her tiny fingers whenever she tried to come near.

The guy’s friend still hadn’t shown his head, though it wasn’t terribly difficult discerning where he was. While he definitely made less noise than the average bear, he was still human, and he couldn’t quite do much to mask that pesky heartbeat of his.

“Look,” she called after a moment, “you’re not as stealthy as you think you are.”

“Sammy!” the guy screamed, wiggling harder. “Take this bitch out!”

While Spike was definitely not unaccustomed to hearing creatures and enemies threaten her, he didn’t have the best poker face when it came to disguising how much that pissed him off. Buffy leveled a warning look his way when his yellow eyes flashed again.

“Down boy,” she said. “Don’t think _Sammy’s_ gonna come out if you’re all fangy.”

“You lay one finger on Sammy and—”

All right. She was officially bored. Buffy sighed and all but chucked the slayer wannabe against a headstone, where he landed with a very loud crack.

The guy, who she decided to nickname Jumpy, released a long, pitiful moan and looked up at her through bruised eyes.

“Well?” she asked. “What exactly will you do? I’m dying to hear it.”

Despite the fact that he had a sizable cut on his forehead, his lip had split, and welts had already begun to form over patches of visible skin, Jumpy flashed her what could only be described as a cocky grin.

“Dying to hear it,” he repeated. “That’s a good one.”

“Look, trigger happy lackey,” Buffy said, crossing her arms, “my friends and I were out here having a nice time until you decided to put one in Zack. You know what that means? My only reason for hurting _Sammy_ is currently getting really familiar with the late Mr. and Mrs. DuPont.”

At this, Jumpy favored her with a long, confused look. “Huh?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “The headstone, Brainiac.”

“Right. Forgive me for not reading it while being hurled through the air.”

Buffy inclined her head. “Well, it just so happens that if you were going to decide to turn slayer, you couldn’t have happened upon a more forgiving group of vamps to make a fool out of yourself in front of.”

“’Cept me,” Spike said, offering a wave.

“I dunno, hon. You’re kinda forgiving.”

“Yeah, with my mates. Not with grown wankers who are still playing cowboy.”

Jumpy shot Spike a look and, amazingly, adapted a somewhat pleased smile. “I look like a cowboy?”

“Buffy,” Kelly said, and Buffy heard the strain in her friend’s voice. “About that forgiveness thing. He _shot_ Zack.”

“Which proves he either A, didn’t mean to kill him or B, doesn’t know how to kill him. Either way, I think we can work out this misunderstanding.” Buffy turned back to Jumpy. “Don’t you?”

Jumpy’s pleased grin had faded into a scowl. “I hate it when fangers try to tell me how to do my goddamned job.”

“Funny. I hate it when I find an overgrown manchild has tried to _take_ my job.”

“What the hell do you mean, _take your job_?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Vampire slayer, comma, the. Look it up in the dictionary and guess whose shining face you’ll see looking back at you?”

“So you’re a vampire vampire slayer.” He snorted. “Now I’ve heard everything.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

The sound of another flying projectile tore through the air. Buffy turned in time to see Spike blinking down at a long syringe that was protruding from his chest.

“Not sure this lot can call themselves vampire hunters, love,” he said, dragging the syringe free. He studied it for a moment, then squirted some of the contents into his mouth. “Maybe it’s a new form of Meals on Wheels.”

“That’s dead man’s blood!” Jumpy roared. “Why doesn’t it affect you?”

Spike and Buffy exchanged another long look. “It does,” Spike said at last before squirting the rest of the blood into his mouth. “Makes the tummy rumbling go away.”

“Is that one at least not diabetic?”

Spike seemed to consider for a moment, then shrugged. “Going by taste, I’d wager this particular dead man died with one of these”—he held up the syringe—“in his arm. Tastes a little funny, but I wouldn’t send it back to the kitchen.” He eyed Jumpy. “Your chum got anymore of these? Think Zangy could use a pick me up.”

Jumpy looked between the two of them for a moment, his brow furrowing, confusion filling his already-angry eyes. “What the hell are you trying to pull?” he demanded. “We all know you’re gonna offer me to the kid.”

“Kid?” Zack sat back, blinking blearily. A somewhat dopey look crossed his face. “I kinda like this guy. Y’know, except for the bullet in my lung thing.”

Kelly whimpered and dropped to her knees beside him. “Can we?” she yelled to Buffy. “What is the moral gray area of eating people when the people in question shot you?”

Spike shrugged. “Fine by me.”

Buffy cut him a look. He froze, then offered a grin.

“Can’t beat the evil outta me, love. Though you know I love it when you try.”

She tried and failed not to grin at him. “Spike, I think if you walk about fifteen yards thataway”—she pointed to the left—“you’ll find our friend’s friend. Then everyone will be out in the open.”

“Sammy!”

“Also, I think his name is Sammy.”

“And there’s no need to come looking,” said a new voice, presumably belonging to Sammy. Out of her peripheral, Buffy saw a big brooding hunk of manflesh stumble out of the darkness, his bulk familiar only in that it immediately reminded her of someone else.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one.

“Is that Angel?” Zack stage-whispered. “I can’t see very well. Must be the bullet in my lung.”

“Yeah. The lead’s spread all the way to your nose, too,” Buffy said dryly.

“You don’t know that it hasn’t,” he whined.

Buffy sighed and, keeping her gaze on Jumpy, circled the headstone so she was facing the newcomer. She fisted a handful of Jumpy’s hair just as he made to leap up and pulled him back down. “One to ten, odds of that working,” she said.

“Bite me, lady.”

Spike snorted but didn’t comment.

“Or something a little less provocative,” Jumpy amended.

Buffy looked up to the Angel-look alike and nearly did a double-take. The resemblance was freaky. He was a towering figure, long shaggy brown hair and one of those I’m-so-tortured faces, as though someone had told him to do his best Angel impression.

“We don’t need any trouble,” he said. It might have been believable had he not been wielding a handgun. “Dean. You okay?”

Jumpy released a long sigh. “Fucking hell, Sammy. I told you to bolt.”

“You knew I wouldn’t leave you out here.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “How romantic. How about the next time you boys want to add some spice to your life, you leave us bystanders alone. Sound good?”

Sammy’s mouth twitched. Dean, on the other hand, released a disgusted moan.

“What is it with people wanting us to hook up? Fucking perverts.”

“Apparently these two are still closeted, love,” Spike called. “Such a shame too. In this day and age.”

Dean shook his head—or tried. Buffy maintained a healthy grip. “He’s my brother, you freak.”

“Yeah?” Buffy flicked her gaze up to Sammy and endured another blast-from-the-past-tortured-soul look. “Well, your brother is pointing his gun at my husband.”

“Thought bullets didn’t work on you.”

“They don’t, but that doesn’t mean they’re not annoying.” She glanced over to Kelly. “How’s our boy?”

“He needs to feed,” Kelly said.

Buffy considered this. “I tell you what,” she told Dean. “Spike’s going to run to our place for some grub. Your brother’s gonna let him.” She glanced to Sammy. “Spike gets back with aforementioned grub and I let you have your hair back. We all walk away.”

“You…” Sammy’s voice shook. “You’re not going to bleed him?”

“As much as the demon inside me loves that idea, no.”

Sammy considered this before turning his attention to Dean. “Maybe they’re like Lenore.”

“Lenore’s face didn’t go all nutso.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “Who the hell is Lenore?”

“Vampire. A friend.” Sammy swallowed. “Dead.”

“So you do make friends with vamps.” Buffy met Spike’s eyes and nodded in the direction of the crypt she had selected for them. He nodded back.

“Where’s he going?” Sammy said as soon as Spike took a step.

Spike’s hands came up. “Get some blood like the lady said.”

“Sammy, take him out!”

Sammy didn’t look convinced. “He…he hasn’t tried to attack me.” He looked to Kelly and Zack, then to Buffy. “None of them have.”

“It’s a trick.”

Buffy snorted. “Yeah. Big trick. Are all wannabe slayers this dumb, or are you a special case?”

“What the hell is a slayer?” Dean shook his head fiercely. “Bitch, let me go!”

“Oh, when you put it like that…” Buffy jerked his head back. “No.” She glanced up at Spike, who was regarding her with a mixture of admiration and concern. It wasn’t the sort of concern that bespoke of his fear that she couldn’t handle herself, rather the same concern he regarded her with every time they were about to be separated. A tacit _take care of yourself._ She smiled softly. “Go.”

Spike nodded again, favored Sammy with a daring _what are you gonna do_ look, then disappeared into the shadows.

Sammy still held the gun, but his conviction had noticeably begun to wane. He considered Buffy, then took a step forward. “What _is_ a slayer?” he asked. “What kind of vampires are you?”

Buffy blinked. “The souled kind?”

“Souled?”

“You know. The thing regular vampires don’t have?”

Sammy looked to Dean, then to Buffy again, moving closer still. “What do regular vampires have, then?”

“Is this your first night on the job or something?” She rolled her eyes. “Vampire bites you. Drains you. Feeds you his blood. Out goes your soul, in goes the demon. You wake up and the demon is in charge. Your memories and even a bit of your personality, but no more soul, no more conscience.”

“Horse shit,” Dean croaked.

Buffy yanked his head back. “Oh yeah? What do you know?”

“You don’t become a vamp until you’ve ingested human blood,” Dean gasped, his throat pulled and on display in such a nice, appealing way that Buffy’s fangs began to ache. Hopefully Spike would bring enough blood for all of them.

Zack, who had managed to climb to his knees, snorted. “Where do we find these people?” he asked Kelly, who lowered to the ground so her husband could throw an arm around her.

“I would know,” Dean snarled. “I almost became one.”

“I dunno what you almost became, sweet-cheeks, but it wasn’t a vamp.”

“And how the hell would you know?”

“Because I’m the vampire slayer.”

“What the hell does that—”

“Buffy?”

Buffy’s head whipped up. Sammy had fully lowered the gun now and was staring at her as though awed. Another too-close-to-Angel-for-comfort look, but it was better than having a gun pointed at her head.

“Buffy?” Dean repeated incredulously. “You know this bitch?”

“Is it?” Sammy asked, stepping forward again. “Are you… _Buffy_?”

“Umm…” At once, Buffy wasn’t sure how comfortable she felt being outted if the result was having a stranger look at her like that. Ultimately, though, she knew she could handle herself, and being the subject of awe remained superior than the subject of a hunt. “Yes.”

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”

Dean stilled. “Wait… _that_ Buffy?”

“You know of another Buffy?” Kelly barked.

Sammy, however, seemed to have not heard her. Instead, he nodded vacantly, a sort of joy leaking into his eyes. “Holy—”

“—shit,” Dean said.

Zack and Kelly looked at each other, both bewildered.

Buffy released Dean’s head without really meaning to. This was wigging her out. Most demons had at least heard of her, but none of them looked at her the way the Angel wannabe was looking at her. Most just said something stupid before getting themselves dead. Plus, the Angel wannabe was not a demon. Definitely one hundred percent human, as was his brother who, now that he was on his feet, no longer looked angry and ready-to-dust, but rather star struck.

“Sammy,” Dean said softly, holding his arms out as though to catch himself should he lose balance. “Buffy the freaking Vampire Slayer threw me into a headstone.”

Sammy nodded, a somewhat freaky grin spreading across his face. “I know!”

“This…” Dean turned to Sammy. “Is the best. Night. Ever!”

Buffy blinked and looked at Kelly.

Kelly looked back.

Zack, hobbling for balance, looked between the two of them. “I think I missed something.”


	14. Chapter 14

Sam waited until they made a stop to fill up the rental car to pull out his “magic.” As Josh ran inside for a bag of peanut butter M&Ms and a couple shooters of Crown Royal, Sam grabbed his phone and called up “Lady” which he decided to call his new lady in red. 

“You’re here.”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“I think you made it to the Kum n Go.”

“Which is an unfortunate name for, well, anywhere.”

“I know,” Willow admitted with a giggle. 

“But I’m more concerned with the fact that you can track my every move.”

“I’m crafty.”

“Yeah, having your magical GPS running 24/7 isn’t at all disconcerting, Wil.”

“Puh-lease. Magic, no. The awesome app I found that uses you phone satellite position to find your exact location, yes.”

“Well, that is disconcerting on an entirely different and more concerning level.”

“I was crafty way before the witch part started.”

Sam smiled. “You are crafty on many levels, if I remember.” He paused. “That was a little more evocative than I meant. I mean, yeah I still like you like that and all that, but I meant how when me met and had that road trip with the apocalypse and the magic and—”

“Sam? It’s okay.”

He sighed. “Yeah. We are going to have to work on working on this.”

“I know.”

“Because I want to make this work. I know it won’t be easy. And I know you and I may be over, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t do this. For Oz. Our son. Who you named after your ex-boyfriend.”

“Sam!”

“Which is cool! I’m not trying to start a fight. I just think maybe we might talk about it while Donna and Josh are talking.”

“About that…”

“You haven’t told you Donna, yet?”

“Confessing is hard.”

“Yeah, I think I’m ready to start that fight now.”

*~*~*

“I always thought Buffy was bullshit,” Dean said to his brother.

“Yeah, I mean we’ve heard of slayers, but I always thought it was just hunter bedtime stories. Like Bigfoot.”

“Or Dracula.”

“Oh, he’s real,” Buffy injected.

“The fuck? What the actual fuck is actually happening?” Dean asked everyone at once.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you fucking shot me,” Zack responded. 

Sam and Dean didn’t look too concerned as they looked back and forth to Buffy and each other. “I still don’t understand why dead man’s blood didn’t work.”

“Or why their faces went all crazy,” Dean added.

“Maybe because you guys suck?” Buffy answered with a shrug. “Vamps aren’t quite like you read about.”

“Look,” Dean said rolling his eyes. “We have more than read about vamps.”

“I doubt you can even read,” Kelly grumbled under her breath. Her comment seemed largely ignored, but her husband gave an appreciative snicker. 

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “We have killed nests full and none have had any of the traits you guys are showing.”

“Except the blood drinking part,” Dean added.

Buffy gave him a bemused look. “Well, that’s a duh.”

Spike made his way back to the group and started tossing blood bags to the undead members of the party.

“Seriously,” Sam said with a shake of the head. “How are you guys able to drink old blood?”

Spike gave a shrug. “Seriously, how can anybody look so much like a douchey Angel?”

“I’m not an angel,” Sam countered with a frown. 

“Cas!” Dean said, slapping his forehead. He cursed as he hit his injured cranium, but kept on track. “He hasn’t checked in, yet. Maybe he found it. And knows what the fuck this is.”

“Good thinking,” Sam commented as he watched his brother take a phone out of his jeans pocket. 

“Dude!” Dean cried. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer broke my phone.”

Spike gave his wife an amused smirk. “Didn’t know the convention was in town. How much we charging for autographs?”

“I’ll call him,” Sam said reaching for his own phone. Though his cheeks had reddened, likely at the idea of getting an autograph. 

“Hello.”

The voice came from outside the circle of current characters.

“Angel,” Spike growled.

“Uhhh…he looks less like him than the second guy.” Zack frowned. “He’s not human.”

Dean and Sam looked relieved. “Tell me you found it. And then tell us what the fuck is going on,” Dean said to the newcomer as a poor form of greeting.

“I found it, but have not procured the item.”

“Great,” Sam enthusiastically responded. 

“What about the other part, Cas?” Dean asked.

Castiel tore his gaze away from the two men he was acquainted and look at the four vampires surrounding them. “Well, these are members of the Order of Aurelius.”

“How does he know that?” Buffy asked her husband.

“Fucking angel,” Spike muttered, his fangs defending.

“Yes, William the Bloody.” He looked to Dean and Sam. “Three of them have souls.” He looked then to Buffy. “And you…your soul and your grace completely counteract your vampirism.” Looking back to Spike, he added, “She is a much better choice in mate than your maker.”

Spike blinked. “What?”

“Yes, I believe the expression is ‘told ya so.’”

“Castiel?” All of Spike’s anger melted instantly as his fangs and bumpies faded away. 

“Yes.” Castiel gave himself a long look over. “My vessel has obviously changed.”

“Back this shit up,” Dean said as he rubbed his bleeding head. “You two are fucking buddies?”

“No,” the men in question responded simultaneously.

“William and I met briefly in 1897.”

Spike smiled fondly. “The good ole days.”

“You and the others destroyed an entire village in Libya.”

“Exactly.”

Sam stepped forward. “Why didn’t you kill him, Cas?”

The angel looked up at the youngest Winchester with a blank expression. “That was not our mission.”

“Right!” Spike sniggered. “You were on a mission from God.”

Dean looked at the angel. “You didn’t have time to kill the evil vamp-demon, but you had enough time to make introductions?”

“The village that was massacred contained a nephilim.”

“A what?” Zack asked.

“Something much worse than a vampire,” Castiel said simply.

“Best. Feed. Ever.” Spike was also vague in his answer.

“But even if a nephilim is worse than him, what the fuck are they?” Dean asked gesturing to the undead.

Castiel looked confused. “They are vampires, Dean.”

“No they aren’t,” Sam said. “They didn’t react to dead man’s blood. Their fangs don’t descend like normal.”

“And their faces freak the fuck out,” Dean added.

“Excuse me?” Buffy snapped. “Pretty sure your face is the one fucked up right now.”

“Yeah, so’s your face!” Kelly spat.

“Good try, babe,” Zack quietly whispered to his wife.

“These vampires are from the Order of Aurelius,” Castiel explained. “They are directly descendent from The Master.”

“The master vampire?” Sam asked. “We already encountered that.”

“Been there. Slayed that.” Buffy folded her arms. “Don’t remember you from the victory party.”

“Buffy is correct.” Castiel’s low, flat voice seemed to command the conversation each time he spoke. “You encountered an Alpha. It and the vampires you have dealt with are—”

“Pussies,” Spike supplied.

“Hybrids,” Castiel finished.

“Shut the front door,” Buffy said turning to her husband. “You mean there’s fake vampires?”

“Hybrids,” Cas clarified.

Dean released a disgusted chuckle. “You’re saying that we only fought the pre-game version?”

Spike gave him a satisfied sneer. “Welcome to the man event, boys.”

“We aren’t as delicate as your copycat variety,” Buffy noted. “No blood is bad blood.”

Cas nodded in agreement. “They are much more powerful, but have a much stronger reaction to sunlight. Mainly because they were created from the darkness of Hell.”

“So how do we kill them?” Sam asked.

“Not really something we talk about in mixed company,” Buffy responded, causing Sam’s cheeks to flush.

Dean didn’t seem as concerned. “Cas?”

“Wooden stake to the heart, silver and holy water are toxic.”

“Beheading?” Dean asked.

“What the fuck doesn’t die when you chop its head off?” Zack asked.

“You’d be surprised,” Spike responded.

“These vampires congregate close to the Hellmouths,” Castiel continued on with his lecture. “Their populations are much smaller, thanks to the Slayers and their council of Watchers.”

Dean and Sam both turned to Buffy with the awed expressions they held when they first learned her identity. “I seriously can’t believe you’re real,” Sam commented. “I mean not just Slayers, but Buffy THE Vampire Slayer.”

Dean nodded. “It’s like finding out that Hogwarts is a real place and that there really is a _Firefly_ reboot in the works.”

“Uhhh…” Kelly said slowly. 

“Not now, duck,” Spike said to his youngest childe. 

Dean frowned. “But how did the vampire slayer get turned into a vampire?”

“Bad day at the office,” Buffy simply responded.

Castiel cleared his throat. “We must go now if we are going to stop it.”

“Right,” Sam said at once. His eyes were still focused on Buffy. “Well, uhhh...sorry about the mix up. We hope there’s no hard feelings.”

“I have lots of hard feelings,” Dean grumbled toward his brother.

Sam ignored him. “I, uhhh, don’t know if this will come off as weird,” he stuttered a bit as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a card. “This is our number if…uhhh…you need anything. Or want anything. Or you want to hang out and chat. About vampires. Or Slayers. Or life.”

“Dude, she’s not single, Sammy.”

“I know!” He snapped at his brother, though his face was beet-red. “I’m being friendly.”

“More like creepy.”

“I agree with the short, bloodstained one,” Spike said to the group.

“I like it,” Buffy admitted. “I always wanted a fan club.”

“I’m your fan club,” Spike teased.

“You’re my groupie.” She gave him a saucy little smirk before turning back to Sam to accept the proffered card. “Thanks, Agent…Teller. Of the FBI?”

“You’re not the only one with stories to tell,” Dean said as he nodded to Cas and started to walk back toward the road. “Be safe. Or don’t. I’m not even sure if you should be left dead or alive at this point.”

Zack gave a fake laugh. “Dead or alive. Funny. I’m dying over here. So original.”

“Well, at least I shot you. So that’s something.”

“Can we kill them now?” Kelly whined as the three men all began to walk away.

“Sorry,” Buffy said as she held up the card she had received. “You can’t kill my fan club until I collect some dues.”

*~*~*

Willow drew in a deep breath. She had officially run out of time and she knew it. That still didn’t make knocking on Donna’s door any easier. Nor did the watery I’m-so-happy-you’re-my-friend smile Donna flashed her when she opened it.

“Hi,” Donna said, her voice a bit strangled in the way Willow knew meant she’d recently been crying. “I’m glad you’re here. I have a question. Is it weird to crave barbecue ice-cream?”

“Umm, yes.”

“Even as a pregnancy craving?”

“You aren’t going to be able to pass that off as pregnancy craving. That’s just weird.”

Donna sighed, looking a bit put out but resigned. “Okay. Well, I’m just weird then. I guess I always knew that.”

“Donna, I need to tell you something.”

“Okay. But where’s Oz? Your face tells me whatever it is isn’t going to make me happy, and adorable babies make everything better.” Donna patted her stomach. “At least that’s my hope.”

Yeah, well, Willow wasn’t about to bring Oz into a potential warzone. He had the meeting with his father for that.

“Oz is with Harry,” she said. Then realized she was stalling again and gave her head a shake. “Look, there’s not a ton of time, but something has happened and you’re not going to like it.”

The light in Donna’s eyes dimmed a bit. “What’s wrong?”

_Okay. Here it goes. Like a Band-Aid._

“Josh is on his way.” No, that wasn’t right. “I mean he’s here. In Mountain Cove. Likely about five minutes away. If that.”

Forget light. Donna’s face went slack. She stood there, gaping for long seconds before the worry lines set in. “What?”

“Yes. He came with Sam.”

_“What?”_

“And that’s not the bad news.”

“What? How is that not the bad news?”

Willow inhaled a deep breath, “Heknowsabouthebaby.”

She was kinda hoping Donna wouldn’t understand what she’d said but just nod like she had. It was a pipe dream, sure, but it was her pipe dream.

“He…knows? About the baby? Oh my god.” Donna broke and started pacing, her eyes welling again with tears. “Oh my _god_ , he _knows_? How? Did he say something to you? How can he know?”

“Because I sent him an owl.” She paused when Donna stopped pacing. “I told him, Donna.”

There was nothing for a long moment. Donna just stared at her, uncomprehending, blinking those big eyes of hers. When she spoke again, her tone was flat. “What?”

“I told him. I was overly emotional and thinking about how Sam had been cheated out of knowing he was going to be a father and how wrong that was. So I sent Ophelia to give Josh the message.” Another beat. “Look, I know I was twenty kinds of out of line, but—”

“How could you do that?”

The devastation in Donna’s voice was all it took for Willow’s own tear-ducts to jump into overtime. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_. You were _out of line_. You…” Donna looked away, her jaw hardening. “You had absolutely no right. No right. And now he’s coming here. _Here_. I left DC to get away from him, Willow!”

“I know.”

“You know what Josh took from you? Choice. He took _choice_ away from you. How could you do that to me?”

Willow pressed her lips together, the first tear spilling down her cheek. “I was weak. I was—”

“Get out.”

“Donna—”

“No, I can’t look at you. Get out.” She curled her hand into a fist. “I might not be a full-fledged witch, but I am angry enough to do some damage. You need to get the hell out of here right now.”

Willow stood stock-still for a moment. There was nothing she could say or do to make this better, but inaction felt cowardly. Not that she hadn’t already been a coward, granted, but she wasn’t used to leaving other people to clean up her messes.

“So is it that you are incapable of respecting my wishes all-over? I believe I asked you to leave.”

That started her into motion. Willow forced herself to nod, wiped at her eyes, and turned to do just that.

Except before she could reach for the knob, someone banged on the other side of the door.

“It’s Harry,” came a familiar voice. “Sam and that Josh git are at Ron’s asking for you.”

*~*~*

Spike rolled his eyes as a sock went flying over his shoulder. “It’s really not necessary, love.”

“Do you even remember what happened last year? In what universe is more muscle a bad thing?”

“Those gits are cushy, human types. What sorta muscle do you fancy they bring to the table?”

She pulled herself out of the duffle bag long enough to send him one of the patented Summers’ glares. “Cushy, humany types. Like Zack Wright, your bestie.”

“That’s different.”

Buffy dove back into the duffle bag, giving him a not-unappreciated view of her ass. “How’s it different with him?”

“These wankers wanted to off the lot of us.”

“Didn’t you meet Wright because he was hunting you? I seem to remember the story involving a crossbow.”

“Zangy didn’t drool all over you the first time he saw you.”

“Seeing as I was naked, cut up, and probably clinically dead at the time, I’m going to hope that no man would have drooled over me.”

“You know what I mean—”

“Yes, doofus.” At last, Buffy relaxed and pulled herself back to her feet, a small business card in hand. “You mean that even after all of these years, any guy who thinks I’m a total babe is competition.”

Spike huffed and looked away, shifting his weight from one foot to the next. “I don’t like the tall one,” he murmured. “Looks too much like King Forehead. Includin’ the googly eyes he aimed your way.”

“Well, I’ve been over tall guys for going on ten years now. So not my type.”

“The other one, then.”

Buffy inclined her head. “Dean? Yeah. More my type.”

He knew she was joking, but that didn’t stop the growl from tickling his throat.

Buffy snorted and shook her head. “He’s my type because he reminds me of you, doofus.”

Spike bristled. “I’m not like that git. And you just called me doofus twice.”

“You were just a doofus twice. And unless you’re saying you’re not a cocky bastard who knows how good looking he is and has a thing for slayers, you’re fooling yourself.”

“You think this bloke’s good-looking, then?”

“Umm. Yes. I have eyes.”

“That’s the sorta thing you’re supposed to keep to yourself, you know. Imagine if I went around announcin’ every bird I thought looked tasty.”

At that, Spike finally relaxed, because the look Buffy sent him had the power to stake. “Not funny.”

“No one here’s laughing, pet.”

“You’re only supposed to find me tasty.”

“That’s my point.” A beat. He wasn’t sure what she wanted until she arched an eyebrow, and he threw up his hands in defeat. “Of course I only find you tasty. Can’t believe you even need to hear it.”

“Yeah, it’s not like someone put that idea in my head.”

“You just said the same about that Winchester wanker!”

“For the record, _good-looking_ is not synonymous with _tasty._ I can objectively admire beauty without wanting a piece of it.”

“So it’s beauty now, is it?”

“Spike…” Buffy studied him for a moment, then shook her head. “Adorable insecurities aside, I’m gonna make sure they have Wright’s card.” She held up said card. “If you wanna chaperone me, go right ahead. I’ll try very hard not to have sex with either one of them.”

He growled again. “You think you’re funny…”

“I know I’m hilarious.” She neared and brushed his mouth with a gentle kiss. Then, softer, she said, “I actually think it’s kinda cute you still get like this even after all these years.”

“Got experience to back me up, don’t I?”

Though that wasn’t fair. Buffy had only proven a thousand different times in a thousand different ways she wasn’t anything like Drusilla, but comparatively, he’d spent more of his life worrying about exactly this than he had in a healthy, secure relationship. Sometimes those insecurities were within closer reach than others.

From the look in her eyes, Buffy saw all of that without needing to be told. She gave him another kiss. “I love you, doofus,” she said against his lips. “And I’ll be right back. Unless you do wanna come with.”

He shook his head, relaxing. “No. Might go see if anyone’s rising tonight, though. Got some steam to blow off.”

“Don’t waste all of it.” She flickered a mischievous grin. “I’m hoping you wear me out later.”

And just like that, he forgot entirely what he’d been so bothered about. “It’s a promise.”

Buffy smirked and headed for the door to the crypt. “Dunno. You haven’t managed to yet.”

*~*~*

For a while there, they’d managed to be somewhat normal. Once Kelly had ushered him back to the crypt she’d selected for them, she’d gone into peak-Kelly mode, fussing over the injury the wannabe slayers had dealt and going through supplies to find a few bags of blood. It had given her something with which to occupy her mind, taking her away from the graveyard, the circumstances, and the whole last year altogether. But once the bullet hole stopped looking like a bullet hole and more like a scratch, the awkwardness that had defined his home life since being reensouled settled once more.

He really didn’t know how to be alone with Kelly anymore, and knowing that hurt.

“Do you think there are a lot of them?” she asked. The question was innocuous, but her tone screamed ‘I can’t stand the silence’.

“A lot of what?”

“Hunters. We’ve only ever known Wright.”

“Pretty sure Gunn was a hunter, too. That’s how he met Angel.”

Kelly nodded. “Oh. Yes, you’re right.” Silence. “I guess I’ve just never thought about it. It seems dangerous.”

“Yeah.”

And that was as far as that conversation got. Kelly sitting on the sarcophagus and eyeing her sleeping bag like it might bite her. Zack standing as far from her as possible in deference to the space she seemed to need so badly.

“I think I’m gonna go patrol,” he said, pushing off the wall.

“Patrol?”

“Yeah. I feel antsy.” Probably had to do with being shot. He was sure Spike would have some explanation for it—the demon being riled and needing an outlet. Spot of violence, he’d say. “There has to be something to kill out here.”

Kelly offered a nod and a bland smile. “Okay. Well…don’t stay out too late. Remember we don’t have the rings anymore.”

Like he could forget. Zack flashed her a bland smile of his own, but it faded into a wince the second he turned away. It would be late, he knew, when he got back. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate not talking to Kelly all night. Better to let her fall asleep before he slinked back inside.

Honestly, at this point, he didn’t give a fuck about learning to be a real vampire. His only objective on this trip was to get his wife to smile at him like she meant it. See if there was anything to salvage in their relationship, or if Wolfram and Hart had succeeded in taking that away from him, too.

*~*~*

Buffy first checked to make sure the Impala was still parked by the Winnebago. No sense making this very special trip if the brothers weren’t on foot. But apparently whatever they were in the neighborhood hunting had yet to be found, because there the car was in all its classic glory. It reminded her so strikingly of the Desoto, not in style but in that she could see Spike happily behind the wheel.

There were times, she’d admit, where she missed that old car.

It didn’t take too long to hunt the boys down. Their scents were all over the place—something she should tell them about, because it kind of ruined the illusion of stealth for creepy crawlies of the vamp variety. She’d hounded Wright about it more times than she could count, but his answer was always the same.

_“I’m still alive, aren’t I?”_

Men really were the worst sometimes.

The boys had made it out of the cemetery, though not by much, and were signaling to each other on either side of a large porch that was attached to one of those garish-as-hell houses that littered the streets down here. Buffy watched for a moment, amused, as they seemed to argue about who should go in first. They had just started a round of Rock, Paper, Scissors when she decided to spare the poor homeowner an insurance claim.

“There’s no one in there.”

The Winchesters jumped at the same time, whirled at the same time, and aimed their guns at the same time. Synchronized hunting was apparently a thing.

“Buffy?” Sam said. He was the first to lower his gun. “Is something wrong?”

“Where’s your entourage?” Dean asked. “And anyone ever tell you it ain’t nice to sneak up on people?”

“Anyone ever tell you breaking and entering is a crime?” She waved at the porch. “Like I said, no one’s home. You’re wasting valuable stealth points.”

“How do you know no one’s home?” Dean demanded.

Buffy arched an eyebrow and pointed at her nose. “I’m a regular ole bloodhound. And they’re human, whoever lives here. And old.”

At that, Dean finally relaxed his stance, his expression a study in frustration. “Son of a bitch. Are you sure?”

“Uhh, yeah. And as much fun as it would be watching the cops wrassle you into a couple of matching jail cells, I think you’ve taken enough abuse for the night.” She shifted her attention to Sam, reached into her back pocket and withdrew the Wright & Pryce business card. “It didn’t occur to me until after you two skedaddled that we didn’t give you a way to contact us.”

Dean favored her with a look that was way too Spike-like for his own good. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer chased us down to give us her number? Blondie not doing it for you, then?”

“Dude,” Sam stage-whispered.

“A, it’s not my number. B, get over yourself.”

Dean smirked. “Just as well. Unlike Sammy, I’m not the fang-banger type. But if you ever change your mind, I’d make an exception for you.”

Sam sighed and rolled his head back. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Sorry,” Buffy replied dryly. “I don’t do human. Even when I was human. You human boys break too easy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Now it was her turn to smirk. “A friend of mine put it the best way—we have muscles you can only dream of. When we get excited, we clench a little tight. The guy I was with before Spike? Riley? Sometimes he’d limp for days.”

The look on Dean’s face was part awe, part curiosity, a lot turned on, and completely hilarious. “Who’s this friend?” he asked hoarsely. “She single?”

Buffy barked a laugh. “Little boy, Faith would eat you alive,” she replied, and handed the card to Sam. “That’s our friend, Zack. Not to be confused with Zack of the world’s-lamest-slay-attempt from earlier tonight. He’s—”

“Zack Wright?” Sam was staring at the card, his eyes wide. “Dean, this says Zack Wright.” He handed the card to his brother before turning to Buffy again. “This Zack… He wouldn’t have a daughter, would he?”

“You know Wright?”

“Our dad talked about him a lot. Bobby, too. Well, you don’t know Bobby, obviously, but he was a friend of ours who was in the business. We did a couple hunts with him back in the day.” Sam wrinkled his brow. “Rosalie was her name, right? The daughter?”

“Thought it was Nikki,” Dean replied. He hadn’t taken his gaze off the card, all playfulness having dissipated.

“Nikki was the one you had a crush on. Rosalie was the child.”

“There was a child? I just remember a smokin’ blonde.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head. “How do you know Zack?” he asked Buffy.

Well, this was certainly a new turn of events. How exactly did one have the ‘Zack is technically the guy who turned me into a vampire’ conversation without first getting into what had happened with Angelus the first time around?

“Long, long story,” Buffy replied. “Maybe I’ll share it sometime. Anyway…Wright knows how to reach us. Most of the time. Spike and I are taking the newbies on a little retreat. But hey, drop him a line sometime. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

“Glad to see someone got out of the business at least,” Dean said, sliding the card into his back pocket. “He wouldn’t have his real name on here unless it was legit.”

“He’s not out of the business. Just LA-focused.”

“A homebody? Wright?” Dean shook his head. “Man, never woulda thought it.”

“Well, he was just a few years younger than Dad,” Sam said. “So it makes sense…” He broke off and favored Buffy with a sheepish grin. “This is… Thanks. We don’t get the chance to check in on our friends all that often.”

“Hazard of the job. They tend to die.”

Buffy nodded and stepped back. “Well, in the interest of not-dying, I better head back. I feel the sun about to come up and that has a tendency to make people with my coloring extra dusty.” She backed up another step and nodded at the house. “Good luck on your old people hunt.”

“We’re not hunting old—”

But she was off, jogging lightly in the other direction. She hadn’t been lying about the sun, though it was at least another twenty minutes from fully rising. The night had been a long one, and tomorrow promised to be even longer. She was looking forward to getting some shut-eye after Spike was given his chance to wear her out properly. Something about being on the road made it hard for her to sleep.

It wasn’t until she was near the place they’d left the Winnebago that she heard it. A grunt.

Things should not be grunting in the graveyard at this time of night. Unless someone was waking up, and honestly, how dumb did a vamp have to be to wake up _now_? Even the newly turned could feel the sun. That instinct was bone-deep. Wise thing to do would be to wait until nightfall before trying to make a break for it.

_Fledglings._

Buffy sighed and reached into her back pocket, where she stored her safety-stake. She sniffed at the air but didn’t get anything back except a whiff of Zack. Which made little to no sense, unless he was venting his sexual frustration against a tree or something. She followed her nose around a corner, just in time to see four black-clad individuals _with no freaking smell_ load an unconscious Zack into the back of a black van. The scene was so wildly weird it took a moment for her brain to translate what her eyes were telling her, but then she was in motion, the bones in her face shifting as an inhuman roar tore through her throat.

One of the black-clad guys whipped around, and she saw his eyes go wide from behind the mask he wore. He raised his gun— _more assholes with guns_ —and fired off a shot. Only it wasn’t a bullet that landed in her thigh, but an injection.

“What is it with…” she began to say before a wave of dizziness hit her. Not dead man’s blood then—something potent. The scene before her went a little foggy, but her demon rallied and she came back in time to shove Mr. Trigger Happy into the nearest headstone.

“It’s the Slayer!” one of the others screamed. “Double the dose!”

Buffy roared again and whipped around as another black-hooded figure came running toward her. This one didn’t have the foresight to fire first, apparently thinking he’d bash her over the head with the gun which, honestly, had he not been listening? She bent her body in a roundhouse kick that sent him through not one, but two headstones, and finally into a live oak tree.

“The doses! The doses!”

Something stung her neck then, and this time her legs gave way. She was out before she hit the ground.

*~*~*

“Dude.”

“Hush.”

“Dude, did they just…slayer-nap Buffy?”

They had been halfway to the Impala when they heard signs of a struggle. By the time they’d made it, though, all there had been to see was a flash of blonde hair before the door to the black van slammed shut. It had been moving before it closed, tearing out of the cemetery like a freshly released hell-bat.

“Did you get the plate?” Sam asked, peering off in the direction the van had disappeared.

“Didn’t have plates.” Dean swore under his breath. “So…what do we do?”

“What do you mean, what do we do?”

“They’re vampires, Sammy.”

“It’s _Buffy_.”

Yeah, it was. Dean swore again, kicked a nearby tree trunk, then winced and walked it off.

“Okay,” he said. “We tell her fella.”

“And then?”

“See what happens.”


	15. Chapter 15

Kelly had lost track of how many times she had paced the crypt. Her mind was racing and her body was still tingling with unspent energy. She felt an anxiety attack bubbling just under the surface. Was it due to the new proximity to her estranged husband? The man she’d spent the past year trying to forgive. Or this experiment Spike was conducting that was supposed to make her tap into the part of her immortal existence she desperately wanted to avoid? She was a mother and a caregiver and there was no place in her identity for violence and bloodshed.

A mother. A sigh of relief washed over her. That was the simple explanation. She hadn’t spoken to her babies for what seemed years. Rosie and William were likely peacefully asleep in the care of Giles and Melody, but she knew her girl would have her phone hidden under a pillow or on the nightstand by her bed. A quick check-in would be just the ticket to grounding her soul and reminding her that as much as the demon inside might try to come out, Kelly Morris was in control, damn it all.

Kelly had known Spike wouldn’t understand. Nor would Buffy. They weren’t parents. Plain and simple. Going off on their own wasn’t a sacrifice because the only real obligation and true love was with each other. Kelly’s completeness was split in pieces and two of those were currently in California. 

Yes, she knew that reality now dictated that she would long outlive her children. Everyone seemed all too happy to point that out. And while she understood the words, she doubted she would ever fully understand the full meaning until the inevitable came to be.

Nope. Kelly shook her head. Not the road to go down. Now was her chance to slip over the RV and get the cellphone she had secretly bought and hidden. If Zack wandered up on her, she doubted he would turn down a free chance to talk to his children.

Quietly, she slipped out the crypt and crept covertly toward the RV. There was an odd energy in the air, but she attributed it to her current frame of mind. She was almost to the door of the vehicle when a scent hit her. She knew that smell; she registered along with anger and annoyance.

She whipped around to see the men approaching Buffy and Spike’s crypt. She could only imagine what they had in mind planning a sneak attack.

Kelly didn’t even register the growl that came from within or the fact she burst forth in full game face. She hadn’t even realized she’d attacked until the taller one was pinned beneath her on the ground. She looked up at the other, “I don’t think so,” she snarled.

“It’s not what you think!” the one she’d brought down cried.

“Yeah, down blood breath!” the other one shouted. “We’re here to help your dead asses!”

“Kelly, love.” She recognized Spike’s voice and relaxed. He could handle the dirty work now. “Let’s remember that Buffy asked us not to eat these gits, as much as we would both love to.”

“Buffy’s kidnapped!” the one she thought was called Sammy declared.

“What?” Kelly’s face returned to normal as all the strength immediately left her body. Her victim quickly took the opportunity to roll from underneath her and stand up.

“Yeah. We saw a bunch of guys loading her into an unmarked van. I’m not for sure, but I think I saw that one I shot. At least it looked like they had someone else and he isn’t here at the murder party.”

Kelly’s mind went blank. “No,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying desperately to find a trace of Zack in the air. “Zack?” she meekly called. The silence brought fear to the forefront of her brain. “Zack? Zack! ZACK!” she screamed into the night.

The silence served as all the proof she needed.

“Where did Billy Idol go?” Not Sammy asked.

Sammy shrugged. “Uhhh…”

The quiet night was filled with the roaring rev of a car engine. Seconds later, a squeal of tires told Kelly exactly where Spike had gone.

Not Sammy’s eyes went wide as he desperately patted himself down. “SON OF A BITCH!”

*~*~*

Sam hadn’t fully registered how truly and completely his world had changed since meeting Willow Rosenberg until this exact moment. Somehow the mad rush of lust and loss and sadness and betrayal and confusion and excitement and love for a new son and more confusion had all blinded him to the fact that she really was a supernatural being. And he was standing in the middle of a fucking _Harry Potter_ novel.

“So, you’re Sam,” the ginger-haired man said darkly.

“Where’s Donna?” Josh asked again.

“Shut it, mate. I already told you that Harry’s on it.” He turned back to Sam. “You think you’re good enough for Willow, do you?”

Sam swallowed. “No, actually I don’t. But we have a child together and I plan on being a man and taking up my share of the responsibility.”

The redhead gave a nod as he folded his arms. “You’re a Muggle. What makes you think you could do a better job? What makes you think you could even handle being a part of our world?”

Now Sam was getting insulted. “Look, Mister…”

He paused for a name.

The other man rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t. I never read your books. I kinda had Congress and a governorship going on. Between that, campaigning, a presidential exploratory committee, and meeting my dream girl in the middle of apocalypse I never found time for reading a fantasy book series.”

“Ron Weasley? Really nothing?”

Sam shook his head. “If it makes you feel better, I regret not reading those books now. You seem like a very powerful and slightly intimidating wizard and I know you could likely kill me any number of ways at the drop of a dime.”

Josh snorted. “Ron is just Harry’s wingman. He does all the stupid stuff that Harry and Hermione have to fix.”

Ron’s face went as red as his hair. “You,” he said looking at Josh. “I plan on turning into a newt.” Then he looked to Sam, “You, I’m beginning to like.”

“I’m pretty sure most of Washington, including me at the moment, would be okay if you did that newt thing on him right now.”

Ron gave a wicked grin as he pulled out his wand.

“Don’t you think about it!” Josh yelled. “You sorry Harry Potter wannabe!”

Sam looked down at his new newt friend/pet. Yeah, this was his life now and he had no idea how he’d got to this point.

“Ron, you cannot just turn annoying Muggles into newts,” a voice said from the doorway. “Especially on a PR trip.”

“Not Muggles.” Ron pouted. “Him. And the news already said he was a raving alcoholic. Not likely to believe him anyhow.”

“Just fix it,” Willow said with exasperation.

Saw turned and met her eyes. Willow Rosenberg was definitely how his life had gotten to this point.

*~*~*

Zack Wright was having a good day. Granted, at 4am there was still plenty of day left, but that wasn’t stopping him from enjoying the moment.

Work had been easy money tonight and Gunn had let him slip on home and skip out on the annoying cleanup. Then he’d happily found his beautiful wife awake and in the mood for some long overdue lovemaking. Afterwards, he was blissfully spooned against his Cordelia and drifting off to sleep with a rare peaceful mind.

The phone rang.

He ignored it.

The phone rang again.

“Zack?” Cordy asked.

He feigned sleep in hopes she would ignore it or answer. He didn’t care which because he wasn’t getting up.

She gave him a jab in the ribs with her elbow as she rolled over and reached across him for the phone. They both knew he was awake now.

“Wright Pryce Investigations,” Cordelia said in a huff as she flopped back down on her pillow. “Please note that rates are double during late night hours, but you are free to call back after 9am.”

Zack sighed. Most people couldn’t afford his normal rates. Chances were the cheapskate would call back when it would be Wes’s problem.

“Zack Wright?” Cordy asked.

He opened one eye to see his wife looking at him. He shook his head.

“He’s out of commission at this time. If you would like to call back during—” She paused, listening to the caller, rolling her eyes as they talked.

Zack couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. Okay.” Another pause. “I said I wouldn’t, buddy, so hold on!” She turned to Zack. “He said it’s an emergency and they are Winchesters.”

Fuck. Zack’s inner peace washed away in an instant. If John Winchester had searched him out for an emergency, it wasn’t just a bad day for him. The fucking world was in trouble. 

“Yes,” Zack quietly said with resignation, reaching out for the phone. “John? What the fuck have you done now?”

The line was silent for a second. “John’s dead.”

The words were a punch to his gut. He’d encountered countless hunters in his years, but very few of them had he veered called a friend. John was one. Their stories had been so tragically similar—the loss of a wife bringing them into the world while also trying to raise children on the road—and nobody ever seemed to get the primal need for justice. Not just for themselves and who they had lost, but for their children. Justice so they could live in a world knowing that evil no longer existed.

“It’s Sam.”

Zack’s mind came crashing back to reality. “Sammy? Last I heard, you’d settled down and went to college.”

“Yeah…well, you know. Saving people and hunting things. The family business.”

“Yeah.” He heard a muffled but forceful stream of profanity from someone other than Sam. “Is that Dean?”

“Yeah. Look, we have a situation. We got your card from Buffy.”

“Oh.” Realization dawned on him. “You’re probably as shocked as I was, but they are legit. Nobody hates vamps more than this guy, but believe me when I say they are good guys. Even Spike,” he said with a chuckle. “I would trust those four with my life, and I have.”

“Good to know,” Sam said slowly. “But not the problem. Now at least.” 

Zack could hear Dean getting hysterical, but still couldn’t exactly pick up on what it was about. “Spell it out, Sam.”

“Buffy and…” A pause. He heard Kelly’s voice. “Zack. Buffy and Zack have been kidnapped.”

“Oh fuck.” Zack’s mind began trying to sort through a million details. He sat up in the bed, knowing he was about to head out on the road.

Dean’s shriek was almost indecipherable. He caught only the tail end. “Did he say something about Baby?”

“Uhhh…yeah.” Sam then dropped his voice to a whisper. “Spike took off in Baby after we told him about Buffy. Seriously, dude you have got to get here. Between Dean and this crazy vampire lady… Dude, it’s bad.”

Fuck. Four hours and twenty-two minutes. Not a record, but it had been nice while it lasted.


	16. Chapter 16

Faith gave the room a long, appraising look before she felt it safe to open the door. She was reasonably certain that the lump under the blankets would pass for pillows rather than a certain former Watcher, who had just fucked her into next Tuesday.

Something she still wasn’t sure she believed, herself.

“You know I’m in a twelve-step program to keep from killing things that aren’t demons,” she said by way of greeting. “But the wagon’s feeling a bit rocky at the moment. Wanna tell me why the fuck you’re pounding on the door at five in the goddamn morning?”

Not that she and Cordelia were the bestest of friends, but Faith knew something was up when her comment failed to earn even a snicker of appreciation.

“It’s Buffy,” Cordelia said. “And Zack.”

The words made no sense. Either her brain was fried from orgasms—again, weird thing to acknowledge Wesley was capable of—or reacting to a lack of sleep.

“Thought B and her platinum honey took off. Didn’t we have a big farewell ceremony not that long ago? What the hell has she gotten into with Wright?”

Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Not our Zack—vampire Zack. The one you boinked.” She paused and held up a hand. “And so help me, Faith, now is not the moment for you to remind me that you and my husband were ever anything but friendly colleagues.”

Faith just smirked and mimed zipping her mouth shut. “So what happened with B and Mr. Soulful? Forget their suntan lotion?”

“Just…come downstairs. Now.” Cordelia paused, and waved at the bed. “And bring Wesley with you.”

Faith stiffened. “Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Now it was Cordelia’s turn to smirk. “Honey, nothing happens in this hotel without my knowledge. Plus, you’re kinda loud.”

Faith looked over her shoulder just in time to see Wesley’s face emerge from the mountain of blankets. He was decent enough to appear sheepish, but not enough to bite his tongue before saying, “I believe I told you so.”

Perfect. This was just what she needed.

“Downstairs. Five minutes,” Cordelia said, then sashayed her way away.

*~*~*

Becoming a vampire came with a lot of perks, Buffy had discovered over the last few years, but immunity to hangovers wasn’t one of them. Granted, if the situation in her head was this nuts, that had to mean Spike had doled out some vintage absinth—not the sissy stuff they peddled around these days. His words.

The fact that her throat was dry enough to dust seemed to lend legs to that theory. That was until other environmental factors began cueing in. Say, like the fact that the ground seemed to be moving. Not to mention voices—voices speaking in some low, had-to-be-demon language. When she drew in a breath, though, the only scents that came to her were those of fiberglass, gasoline, stale beer, day-old McDonald’s, and Zack.

And then it came back—a burst of memory so powerful her head pounded. Buffy started but forced herself to keep her eyes shut. Best not to let the assholes know whatever cocktail they’d used to knock her out had worn off.

Okay. So, she was in a vehicle. From the sound and feel of things, a van. There were at least four—no, five—distinct voices coming from the front. No scents to any of them, which… _yes,_ she remembered thinking the same thing in the cemetery. The guys she’d seen manhandling an unconscious Zack into the back of that van hadn’t smelled of anything.

_All the better to sneak up on vampires, my dear._

Other things became clear. Like a mask was strapped to her face. An old school mask—Hannibal Lecter variety. Explained the fiberglass smell. Her hands were twisted behind her back, and every time the van jolted, her skin sizzled and burned. So, they had blessed whatever they’d cuffed her with.

Buffy hesitated, then peeked an eye open.

Zack was sprawled out on the ground before her, his mouth open. The wall of the van was adorned with weapons of the vampire-slaying variety—stakes, swords, crossbows, and a few other toys she wouldn’t mind playing with under different circumstances. Unlike her, Zack wasn’t tied up or harnessed into anything, which struck her as odd but she didn’t have time to dwell.

_Think, Summers._

Buffy pressed her eyes closed and thought back to what she last remembered. She’d been in the crypt with Spike— _oh god, he must be losing his mind_ —and she’d left. Why? Something had been in her hand. A card. Business card. Zack Wright.

Then it came back in full—the trip to see the Winchester boys, discovering they all had a friend in common, then coming back to the cemetery. Hearing something that sounded wrong. Again, her mind showed her Zack being stuffed into the van, and then—

_“It’s the Slayer! Double the dose!”_

_Double_ … Buffy opened her eyes again and looked once more to Zack. He’d been dosed. Whoever these guys were had drugged him. And they hadn’t been ready to drug her, otherwise they’d have had some vampire-slayer-turned-vampire strength drugs at the ready. Zack had been their objective.

_Wolfram and Hart._

_Shit, shit, double shit._

There was no other explanation. But, she realized as the van took a particularly sharp turn that dug her blessed restraints deeper into her flesh, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting out—and these guys, whether they were contractors-for-hire or on the permanent payroll, hadn’t banked on biting off more than they could chew. There was no reason for her to be all trussed up and not Zack if they had more than one set of vamp-trussing equipment, which meant they’d only planned for one.

Just sucked that they’d been smart enough to use said equipment on her. She much preferred bad guys who were all-the-way dumb, not just mostly dumb.

Buffy tried flexing her leg, biting back a wince when her skin began to sizzle. She was vertically challenged and restrained, but Zack was so close. If she could nudge him awake…

Another sharp turn, and Buffy was nearly forced off the bench on which she sat. Would have toppled onto the floor had the chain to which she was cuffed not been attached to the van wall. Zack also moved, rolling until he was against the opposite wall, his back pressed against the row of crucifixes that lined the bottom.

Buffy winced at the crackle of burning flesh, and immediately began searching her brain for a new plan. Because if nothing else, _that_ would wake Zack up. And when it did, he would blow any chance they had at—

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

—discretion.

*~*~*

“All right,” Sam said, lowering his phone. “Wright’s on his way.”

Kelly tipped her head back. “Thank god.”

Sam nodded at her. “We’ll stay with you until he gets here. Then we need to get back to work.”

“Back to work?” Dean barked, his eyes shining with that manic look Sam knew all too well and didn’t like in the slightest. “What the hell do you mean?”

“We have a job to do, Dean.”

“A goddamn bloodsucker just made off with our car, Sammy. With _Baby_.”

Yeah. Sam swallowed, pushing down the ingrained sentimental pang associated with the Impala. The part of him that was very much John Winchester’s son rallied to tear off after the car on principle alone, but the rest of him—the Mary in him—whispered quietly that there were more important things. Things like saving the world. “Zack won’t let anything happen to Baby,” he said. “He’s one of Dad’s oldest friends.”

“If you think I’m gonna leave it to some hunter we haven’t seen in twenty goddamn years to rescue my car—”

“Your car?” Kelly all but screeched. “My husband! My _husband_ has just been taken, along with my best friend, but your car is really what’s at stake here?”

Sam wondered for a moment if he’d need to restrain his brother. “The car’s important to Dean,” he said slowly.

“It’s not to you?” Dean snapped back.

“Of course it is, but really…priorities.” Sam sighed and rolled his eyes at the glare his comment received, then turned back to Kelly. “We were hunting a Vengeful Spirit. A really, really powerful Vengeful Spirit. Cas is looking for ways to put it down. The regular stuff won’t work.”

“This literally means nothing to me.”

“Of course it doesn’t, you bloodsucking bitch!” Dean screamed. Which proved to be a dumb move, as Kelly’s otherwise pretty face distorted into the demon mask of earlier, and a growl Sam could only call _lionesque_ tore from her unassuming lips.

“Look...” She frowned, then shot Sam a quizzical glance.

“Dean,” he stage-whispered.

She nodded her thanks, then whipped back to Dean and seized him by the throat, her scowl back in place. “Look, _Dean_. You boys really don’t know what the hell you stumbled across tonight. The entire reason we’re down here in the first place is to get in touch with our inner demon. See, Zack, Buffy, and I all have souls—the thing that keeps us from being monsters. For a while now, Spike’s been on this kick about how we need to learn to coexist with our monsters. Since you’re prioritizing a car over the father of my children, I have a big ole itch to start coexisting right now, starting with you.”

Okay. Maybe he shouldn’t be standing by idly while a wicked-strong vampire manhandled his brother. Sam sighed and drew out his gun. “Kelly,” he said, keeping his voice calm, “let’s not do it this way.”

She looked at him again. “I never _wanted_ to do it this way. I didn’t want to be here. I want to be home with my children. But I can’t go back without their father. And even though Spike isn’t my favorite person at the moment, he’s doing more than either of you are to get me my husband back.”

Sam decided not to point out that the reason they couldn’t do anything at the moment was Spike had stolen their wheels. “Kelly, we’re going to help you get Zack back. And Buffy. Right, Dean?”

Dean was alternating between looks that screamed “can’t breathe” and “are you fucking high?” At the moment, he aimed Sam the latter.

“We just need to make sure the Vengeful Spirit we’ve been tracking is taken care of,” Sam said. Hesitated, then thought, _what the hell_? If nothing else, this might calm her down. “Do you know of anyone who could help with that? Besides Zack Wright, who’s coming to help?”

Kelly frowned thoughtfully, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. She somehow managed not to prick herself with her fangs.

“Willow,” she said.

“The fucking dwarf?” Dean gasped.

“Don’t be stupid,” Kelly chastised, managing to look highly critical while still holding Dean by the throat. To Sam, she said, “Willow’s in England, but she’s one of Buffy’s oldest friends and a mega powerful witch.”

Adding witches to the mix seemed like the opposite of a good idea, but if it got Kelly to not strangle Dean, he’d play along. “Okay. I’ll call Wright back. Until then can you…please not eat my brother?”

Kelly frowned, then seemed startled to realize she had Dean by the throat. The demonic visage she wore faded and she squeaked and drew her arm back. Dean crashed to the ground without ceremony.

“Ow,” he said into the dirt.

“Sorry,” Kelly muttered.

“Sammy.” Dean braced his hands against the soil and started to push himself up. “This is why we never meet our heroes. Remind me of that next time.”

But Sam wasn’t listening. He had his phone pressed to his ear. “Yeah, Zack. It’s Sam Winchester again. No, sorry, there’s this other hitch. Dean and I were on a hunt and we need someone to take over if we’re going to help you guys get Buffy—”

“And Baby!” Dean screamed.

“—back. Kelly mentioned someone named Willow.” He paused. “A…witch?”

When Wright didn’t balk at bringing in even more dangerous creatures, Sam felt a little lightheaded. Legends like Buffy aside, he wasn’t sure how many more stories about not-bad creatures he could handle. Everything he’d ever known about the world people didn’t see was in question tonight.

Night that was about to become morning.

Kelly seemed to realize it the same time he did. She looked at him, wide-eyed, then dashed toward the place he’d last seen the Winnebago.

“Okay,” Sam said into the phone. “Thanks. No—I’ll call this Willow person. You get on the road. The sooner you’re here, just… It’ll be better.”

God, he hoped.

*~*~*

Wright pinched the bridge of his nose, willing for patience. The others—the Hyperion’s occupants, plus Hunter—didn’t ask any stupid questions, rather just gave him a moment to gather himself.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and calmed a bit.

“What is it, sweetie?” she murmured into his ear.

He calmed a bit more. “I think you should come,” he said to Cordelia. “That was Sam—John’s son. Again. Spike’s gone, Buffy’s kidnapped, and Zack… Well, I think Kelly might be about to snap and you will have a lot more patience with her than I will.”

Cordelia gave him a look that told him two things—one, he was a lucky son of a bitch. Two, he was a moron.

“Zack,” she said in that placating tone of hers, “I was always coming with you.”

“You were not.”

“I totally was.” Cordelia stepped back, giving him that narrowed look his loved so much. “Sorry, but I kick all kinds of ass. You were so not leaving me behind.”

“But—”

“I used to go out on the field with you all the time.”

Yeah, and he hadn’t liked that either.

“Melody is taking Kelly,” Cordelia went on, nodding at Rosalie, who nodded back. “Big sis is watching her now, but we already talked about how it’d be easier on everyone if she went with her G-ma. I handled this already. It’s done. Deal with it.”

He saw plainly there was no arguing with her—and he didn’t want to argue, given he’d just told her he needed her to come. With a sigh, Wright nodded and finally turned his attention back to the semicircle that had gathered in the Hyperion lobby.

“Okay, like I was saying,” he said. “Gunn and I are heading out. Cordy, too. I know that leaves us with a skeleton crew, but Buffy and Zack picked an excellent time to be abducted.” He wouldn’t go into _why_ , because good hunters didn’t jinx themselves. “Wes, I’m leaving you in charge.”

The look Wes gave him made him feel uncomfortable, and not only because Wright wasn’t a hundred percent behind this decision. Though the man had made great strides over the last few weeks, they weren’t all that far removed from the version of him that had tried to dust his half-brother. But damn, Wright could see Wes was trying, and Zack was out of the picture now.

And, if Cordy was to be believed, Wes was far enough on the recovery train to be banging Faith, which was a step he remembered all too well.

“Thank you,” Wes said, his voice hoarse.

“No thanks needed,” Wright replied, keeping his face neutral. “You’re a partner. Always have been. I trust you with my life.”

Goddammit, Wesley now looked like he might cry.

Wright shuddered and turned to Rosalie. “You’ll be okay.”

She flashed a smile that betrayed how worried she was. “Of course.”

“I’ll get them back, kid. Both of them.”

She nodded, rubbing her arms. “I know. I just hate you going out again. It reminds me…”

She didn’t finish, and she didn’t need to. Los Angeles had been their home for more than a decade—the first home they’d had after chasing Darla across the country. The stability they had here was something the man who had once run in John Winchester’s circles wouldn’t have been able to fathom. Leaving to meet Winchester’s sons felt a bit too much like a chapter from his old life. Rosalie would have to feel it.

“Me too,” he said, then walked across the room to take her into his arms. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I know.”

“You do what Wesley tells you to do while I’m gone.”

She laughed into his shoulder. “Unlikely.”

“And don’t do what Faith tells you to do.”

“Double unlikely.”

Wright pulled back, kissed her temple, then gazed over to where Faith stood, her arms crossed and a troubled look on her face. “Cordy?” he said, “Gunn? You two ready?”

“Ready to roll,” Gunn replied.

“I always have at least three emergency travel bags packed,” Cordelia agreed. “You know this.”

“All right. Go grab the wheels. Faith—I need a word.”

Faith rolled her eyes but nodded, undoubtedly expecting a lecture just for her. He didn’t blame her—that seemed like the sort of thing he’d do.

“Yeah, I thought as much,” she said, turning and heading toward the office. “The old talkin’-to.”

Wright did his best not to look at Wes as he crossed the lobby floor. He didn’t even breathe until he’d closed the office door behind him, wary of betraying anything through body language.

“So what are my special rules?” Faith asked. When he turned, he found her reclined against his desk.

“Watch out for Rosalie.”

There was nothing for a moment, then Faith arched an eyebrow. “You couldn’t tell me this out there? Fuck, man, like I don’t already bend myself backwards keepin’ an eye on the kid.”

“I know you do.”

“Then—”

“Watch out for Wes.”

There it was. The snark faded from Faith’s eyes, which rounded with understanding. “You were lying to him just now?”

“No. I trust him with _my_ life. I don’t necessarily trust him with my daughter’s.” A pause. “But I do trust you with hers, Faith. I know how much she means to you, which is why I know that if Wes starts making decisions that will put her in danger—”

“Wes wouldn’t—”

“I want to believe that, but…you don’t get over the death of someone you love in less than a year. Hell, you never really get over it at all. And Wes has made a lot of progress, but he’s still… I’ve been there. I was the worst version of myself when I was where he is now. It’s a miracle I didn’t get my daughter killed.” He swallowed, hard. “I know Wes loves Rosalie. And she loves him—it’s important that she see him the way she used to, because it might be one day I don’t come back and she’ll need someone more reliable than her vampire uncles to be there for her. And I know she’s a slayer now and yadda yadda, but she’s still my baby girl. Okay? Just…watch him for her.”

Faith pressed her lips together and nodded. “With my life, Zack.”

There weren’t a lot of people he’d trust meant those words. But she was one of them. “I know.”

*~*~*

_Merlin’s testicles._

Willow stared at the screen of her iPhone until it went dark, still trying to process exactly what she’d just heard.

“Will?”

She blinked and jerked her head up, reentering her current reality—the one where Sam was holding their child and three of her closest friends from England were staring at her with a mixture of censure and pity. The screaming match going on two doors down could still be heard—Donna and Josh were either seconds away from epic makeup sex or being captured on an episode of COPS. And still, that part wasn’t the weirdest thing to happen today.

“Willow?” Sam said again, bouncing the baby in his arms. “What—”

“Someone’s coming,” she said hoarsely. “He’ll be here—”

“Willow Rosenberg.”

The voice was flat and dry and right behind her. Willow, close friend of the Weasleys and Potters and their combined joy of pranking the daylights out of each other, wasn’t unaccustomed to people Apparating in and scaring the shit out of her. However, Apparition occurred with a telling _crack_. This voice had manifested without one.

She was only slightly mollified when she heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath.

“People, don’t do that!” Sam yelled. “I almost dropped the baby.”

Willow turned to see a man wearing a long trench coat and possibly the most serious expression in the history of faces.

“My name is Castiel,” he said. “I am told you might be able to help me.”


	17. Chapter 17

There was an awkward silence about the Hyperion. Once the rescue team deployed, it felt like the kids had been left the keys to the candy store. Faith, Wes, Nick and Rosalie all exchanged glances, but nobody seemed to want to speak. Nick raised his eyebrows at Faith once they locked gazes before briefly eyeing Wes, which sent the former Watcher into a nervous fit of coughs.

“So…” the junior Slayer ventured. “Since you know about the whole dropout thing, guess we’re good on the pretending to go to school game, Uncle Wes?”

“Yes,” he choked as he regained his composure.

“Cool. Then I’m heading back to bed.”

Nick gave her a look. “Kelly is still upstairs.”

Rosalie blushed. “Damn, already forgetting the babysitting duties.”

Nick gave another look to Faith before looking to his Slayer. “Why don’t we go upstairs and call your gram? We can pack a bag and tell her you need to pass her off before you go to ‘school’.”

Rosalie might be young, but she wasn’t naïve. She could definitely tell something was up. “Okay,” she said as Nick took her by the elbow and led her to the stairs. Once they reached the top, she turned to him and asked, “What the fuck is up?”

Nick’s cheeks reddened slightly. “Nothing.”

She gave him a skeptical look as she let him continue to steer her course. “You know you’re a shitty liar, right?”

Nick sighed. “It’s…nothing. They just might need a minute.”

“For what?”

“To talk or fornicate or something.”

Rosalie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him head on. “They’re screwing now?”

“Shhh!” Nick said harshly at her elevated voice. “And yes,” he whispered in kind.

Her eyes grew wide. “Are you and Faith still…” She really didn’t want to finish that sentence.

“No,” he said firmly. “Faith and I decided that our…” His face reddened further. “Arrangement was no longer feasible.”

“For her, maybe.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean she’s found a boyfriend to…you know…take care of business.”

“Oh my God,” Nick groaned as he ran a frazzled hand through his hair.

“Just saying. If you need to…you know…”

“Rosalie Wright, do not finish that sentence.”

“It would be mutually beneficial now for both of us.”

He cast his eyes to the ceiling. “For fuck’s sake!”

Rosalie shrugged. “Hey, you aren’t my first choice either, buddy.”

He gave her an incredulous look. She felt her own cheeks warm, but kept spewing words. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. It sounds like we’re both gonna be desperate now, if you know what I mean.”

He shook his head and turned to walk down the hall. “Call your gram. I’ll start packing Kelly’s belongings.”

Rosalie couldn’t help being pleased. He hadn’t said no.

*~*~*

“What kind of wizard are you?” Hermione asked in total astonishment.

Castiel turned to give her the same intense state he had given Willow upon arrival. “I am an angel of The Lord.”

“That’s it!” Ron cried as he threw his hands into the air with abandon. “I’m officially done with America!”

“D-do we need to bow?” Sam asked hesitantly as he looked between Willow and the angel for an answer.

The angel in question rolled his eyes. “I highly doubt that would be constructive at the moment, but generally a sign of reverence is appreciated.” He turned back to Willow. “Ms. Rosenberg, I have been informed you know of the location of the sacred relic I am searching for.”

“Uhhh…the nails? Yeah, pretty sure I last saw them on a bookshelf.”

“Where?”

“They would be wherever Giles is living at the moment.” She shrugged. “I know he’s in LA. He just got engaged and I think they got a new house. He was kinda living in New York before and she was kinda married to a deranged psycho who tried to kill his son and grandchildren. They kinda wanted a fresh start after all that.”

Castiel seemed unimpressed with most of that. “Rupert Giles? Former member of the Watcher’s Council?”

Willow nodded. “Yup.”

“You said he was in Los Angeles currently?”

“Yeah, but I haven’t exactly called him yet to tell him that—” Before she could finish, Castiel disappeared into thin air. “That you wanted anything,” she finished meekly.

“Well,” Harry said after a long silence. “That was a first.”

“Thank God I’m not the only one,” Sam followed before wincing. “Damn, I probably shouldn’t have taken the Lord’s name in vain just then.”

Willow gave him a small smile as she walked over and checked on Oz, who had somehow managed to fall asleep during the whole ordeal. “Man, the stories we get to tell this fella when he’s older.”

The relative peace of the room ended when Josh came bursting through the door. “There’s no talking to that woman!” He bellowed, causing Oz to awaken with a startled cry.

“Goddammit, Josh!” Sam growled as he began to rock the baby once more.

Ron had to snicker. “Someone take Oz before Sam gets himself smited.”

“Jesus!” Sam declared as he hastily handed his son off to the baby’s mother. “That isn’t a thing, is it?”

Willow shrugged. “Ten minutes ago I would have said no, but now we were just in an episode of _Touched by an Angel._ All I know is you better watch yourself, Mr. Seaborn.”

“What the hell?” Josh questioned. “And why won’t that baby be quiet?” He was oblivious to the angry glares from every occupant of the room.

As quickly and quietly as before, Castiel materialized in the place he’d stood once. There were cuts scattered across his face and his hair was a matted mess. His once pristine trench coat was in tatters with several rips and singes. Part of it was smoldering, and his tie had certainly been burned away. “That was most unhelpful.”

Willow winced. She had a feeling that was how it would go down. “Yeah…I kinda hadn’t gotten to the part where I told him you were coming. Or the part where he really doesn’t like angels.”

Hermione gave her a look. “So you did know about angels?”

“Well, at the time I thought he meant the Hells Angels, but looking back, he definitely meant real angels. Bikers don’t have wings.”

“Well, yes.” Castiel looked at her with calm disappointment. “He and my brother Gabriel seem to have crossed paths several years ago. Unfortunately, Mr. Giles has developed a bad opinion of my species as a whole.”

“No worries,” Harry said. “Willow can pop over and sort it out.”

“I’m afraid that will be impossible,” Castiel declares. “Mr. Giles has placed up some very potent warding. I highly doubt your Apparation would be effective.”

Willow sighed. Sounded about right.

“I would continue, but unfortunately I need to return back to the Inferi I have contained to assure it does not escape and wreak havoc on midwest Kansas. Ms. Rosenberg, if you would please inform me when I may retrieve the relic?” And without further ado, he disappeared once more.

“Am I drunk right now?” Josh asked.

“Quite possibly,” Sam muttered.

“So…anybody up for a road trip to LA?” Willow chirped.

“I’ll go,” Harry responded. “You really need to rest before we on tour. Just call that Castiel back and get an address. And please call your friend Giles and let him know I’m coming.”

“Los Angeles?” Josh asked. “Yeah, I know where to go.”

Willow was positive he didn’t. “You do?” she asked skeptically.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Los Angeles. That Giles guy. Sure.” He seemed to notice her disagreement. “What? I work for the White House. It’s part of my job to keep tags on all the freaks on the west coast. Especially the freaks that are capable of setting of another fucking apocalypse.”

Willow shrugged. Surprisingly, that actually made sense. “So you know his address?”

Josh pulled out his phone. “One quick call and I can program it into the GPS.” He turned to Sam. “Look, I think this would go better if you came along. A car ride alone with this guy,” he said, gesturing to Harry, “and I’m likely going to end up another woodland creature.”

“I’d like to assure you not,” Harry responded, “but I only have a finite amount of patience.”

Sam gave Willow a hesitant look. “I…”

Willow sighed and nodded. “They’re right. You’re a negotiator. That’s literally part of your job description. And Giles is going to be pissed at me for ratting him out to an angel. Between you and Harry, it will be much easier for him to hand those nails over. Especially when I tell him I sent my baby daddy and the governor of California over personally.”

“Baby daddy?” Sam asked with a sheepish smile.

She couldn’t help but return his grin in kind. “You heard me.”

Sam’s smile faded, but he kept his eyes locked on hers. “Okay then. Looks like Baby Daddy is taking a quick road trip.”

*~*~*

An explosion of demon gargling came from the front of the van, which jerked to a sudden stop. Buffy ground her teeth down to stifle the urge to scream as the cuffs dug deeper into her wrists. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she would be freaking dust before these assholes saw her cry.

“Zack!” she spat once the pain had dulled. “Zack, grab an axe!”

Zack rolled over, favoring her with a sleepy blink. “Dr. Lecter?” he asked, the words slurred. “Where’s your Little Mermaid outfit?”

“What?” Then she remembered the mask. “Zack, it’s _Buffy_. We’ve been abducted.”

The thunder of doors slamming shut shook the van.

“Huh?” Zack asked, attempting to sit up, then wincing and collapsing again onto his back. “Fuuuuuuck, my head…”

“Zack. _Focus._ ”

“Don’t wanna.”

The next instant, the doors to the van burst open, sending golden rays of sunlight into the cabin. Buffy couldn’t help the scream that tore through her throat as her exposed skin began sizzling. And Zack apparently decided that his pants catching fire was one of those things he couldn’t sleep through. He jolted forward, wide awake, and began crab-walking toward the safer, shadowy patches behind him.

“You trying to kill me?” he demanded shrilly, stomping out the fire.

“Zack!” Buffy twisted, fighting through the pain. At this point she didn’t care if she ripped her arms off. “Help!”

But it was too late. One of the goons from the front fired another one of those darts, and it struck him solid in the knee. Zack howled his fury, but didn’t have much of a chance to do anything else before he collapsed in a heap.

The doors slammed shut again just in time to save Buffy from going up in flames. And for the first time in a long time, something like fear tore through her body. A different kind of fear, removed from what had happened in the last year—even when Zack had had her strung up under Wolfram and Hart. She’d known there was a way out then, that all she had to do was wait. Though he could have staked her at any time, he’d somehow known he wouldn’t. Soulless Zack had been a mirror of soulless Angel in that way—he’d gone for the hurt.

But these goons clearly didn’t care if she was collateral damage. Another second of that, and she wouldn’t be sitting here anymore. It was somewhat miraculous that they had decided to take her at all rather than just dose her up and dust her.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

“Zack,” Buffy croaked. “Wake up. _Please_.”

But he didn’t. For the moment, she was on her own.

*~*~*

Spike jerked the wheel sharply to the left and pulled his head back into the car as the Impala’s wheels voiced their complaint but did as he bade. The scent was there—faint, but there—and he wouldn’t let himself think about how it might be his head playing tricks on him, or how he didn’t think anyone had trailed a vampire like this before. He didn’t have a whiff of Buffy or Zangy, but the van itself. Trouble was picking it out from the lineup of other vans. Every smell was unique in some way, but finding the difference wasn’t exactly a science.

What he needed was Willow, or any of her magically inclined mates. Someone who didn’t need to rely on smell to learn where someone had been taken.

But fuck, the thought of pulling over, even for a second, scared him stupid. Especially when he wasn’t sure how the bloody hell to get hold of Red at that wonky school where she worked.

So for now, he’d stay on the road, following his nose, and hope to fuck he was on the right path.

*~*~*

“Are we…going to talk about this, then?”

Faith rubbed her arms, her head still ringing with Wright’s parting words and the heady knowledge that, protests aside, the big guy actually did trust her to get a few things right. That was sure as fuck more than she’d ever thought she’d get, and now that she had it, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

Fucking the guy she was keeping an eye on seemed shady. Add her already-complicated feelings for him to the mix and all she felt like doing was burying her head in a nice stretch of sand somewhere.

“I don’t know what there is to talk about,” she said at last. “We fucked.”

“Twice.”

Yeah, twice. The guy had been sitting on her bed when she’d decided to call it a night. Faith hadn’t meant to fall on his dick, but she’d tripped and somehow ended there anyway.

Self-control had never been a strong-suit.

“I don’t do the talk. Easier that way.”

“We should at least know what it is we’re doing.” Wesley took a step closer. “Are you still sleeping with Nick?”

“Would it matter if I was?”

“I know we don’t have a name for what we’re doing, Faith, but yes, it would matter to me.”

Dammit, why’d he have to say that? The soft, warm place she had for him became softer and warmer.

“I don’t do cushy, Wes. This is as soft and cuddly as I get.”

He arched an eyebrow and edged a step toward her. “And if I don’t want soft and cuddly?”

“What _do_ you want?”

“I don’t know, to tell you the truth. It wasn’t like I planned to…” He gestured emphatically, his cheeks going red in a way that should so not be charming but was. “Truthfully…being with anyone after Fred is…confusing. On one hand, I feel like I’ve betrayed her, and on the other…” He swallowed hard. “On the other, it seems she has been gone much longer than she has. So much has changed…”

Faith brought her hands up. “I’m not gonna be her stand-in.” The thought bothered her, which bothered her even more because she’d never given a fuck about this sort of thing before. But everything she felt about Wes was new territory—the urge to run and never stop running combating with the need to push toward him.

“I don’t want a stand-in, Faith. I don’t know if I want anything.”

“Well, then we better knock it then, right? Because you and me? We’re gonna be complicated as fuck without added baggage.”

He barked a humorless laugh. “Understatement.”

“So we’re agreed? No more knocking socks?”

He was quiet a moment, and though it was a step or two beyond uncomfortable, she forced herself to hold his gaze. “I’m not sure I don’t want complicated,” he said at last. “I…feel something. When I’m with you.”

“That teacher/student kink never really goes away, does it?”

“Faith—”

“Yeah, I get it.” Then she had to look away, a hard sigh tearing through her chest. “Not a big fan of feeling things, Wes. Never have been. And I’m not sure I’m gonna start liking it just because.”

Wes took another step forward. “That’s fair.”

“So are we gonna do the smart thing or the really fucking dumb thing?”

Another step. His familiar scent filled her nostrils.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured, tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to look at him, “but I am feeling really fucking dumb.”

He lowered his mouth to hers, slowly, methodically, giving her all the time in the world to pull back or shove him away.

In the end, she did neither.

*~*~*

A low moan rumbled through the air. Buffy jerked up without thinking, opening the place at her wrists where the skin had started to heal. The stench of cooked flesh wafted upward again, and she sick to discover her stomach growled in response. She hadn’t eaten anything since the Winchesters had tried to shoot her up with diabetic blood, or whatever the hell that had been, and with the injuries she’d sustained, the demon inside was clawing at her for nutrients like it never had before.

“Zack!” she whisper-screamed. “Are you waking up?”

There was nothing for a long moment—so long she felt her hopes begin to slide down the opposite direction again.

Then Zack lifted his head, pressing his palm to his brow. “Fuuuuuuck me,” he muttered. “What the hell did Spike give me to drink last night?”

“Zack.”

“Stop shouting.”

“I’m not—” Buffy cut herself off before she could do something really stupid, like, well, shout. “Zack, we’ve been abducted.”

He blinked blearily. “Huh?”

“Ab. Duct. Ed,” she ground out. “Kidnapped.”

“All of us?”

“Do you see anyone else around?”

He pouted—honest to god pouted—and rubbed his eyes like a toddler. “Look, my head is spinning and you’re shouting and I think I slept on a hot poker.” He dropped his hands, blinked some more, then the clouds seemed to fade from behind his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Buffy, what happened to you?”

There was every chance she would stake him herself once they got out of this.

“Demons. Five of them. They’re scentless.”

“We got taken out by senseless demons?”

“Not _senseless,_ you moron, _scent-less_. As in, they don’t give off a scent.”

“Jeez, someone’s crabby.”

“Crabby?” She was still whisper-yelling, but was leaning hard on the _yelling_ part. “Zack, I got myself abducted trying to save your ass. They have me cuffed up with blessed metal, and when you woke up earlier, I almost dusted when they opened the goddamn door. Forgive a girl for being _crabby_.”

Zack had enough sense to not reply. Instead, he turned his attention to the interior of the van, taking in their surroundings. “They left me on the ground in full reach of a battle-axe? These guys aren’t smart.”

“They were smart enough to chain me up instead of you.”

“Maybe they wanted you. Maybe I got myself abducted by trying to save your ass.”

She growled—and not a human growl. “Can you please, for the love of god, get me out of these cuffs?”

“Are you going to stake me?”

“Honestly, your odds are fifty-fifty right now.”

Zack shook his head and started to crawl toward her, which wasn’t an easy feat, given how the van kept jerking. “Well, if these assholes managed to catch both of us, I think I’m gonna need all the help I can get to bust out of here, so I’ll take my chances.”

*~*~*

He hadn’t expected to be this nervous, truth be told.

Granted, he also hadn’t expected Wolfram and Hart to botch up the abduction of Zack Morris so spectacularly, either. Wesley hadn’t yet allowed himself to process what it meant that Buffy had been captured, too, though he knew he had to, and fast. But he would be in a stronger position to barter if his end of the bargain was taken care of.

Rosalie had returned from dropping off her sister, marched right on upstairs without another word, and fallen into bed. Faith was out, too—she and Hunter went on a call, both protesting loudly that they weren’t actually on Wright & Pryce’s payroll and therefore not obligated to be nice to clients, but they’d gone just the same.

_Faith._

God, Wesley didn’t want to think about her or what was happening between them. He’d been honest earlier, but that sort of honest made what he was about to do seem… Well, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t as though anyone would be hurt in this, except Morris, of course, but involving Wright’s daughter at all didn’t seem as bright an idea as it had at the offset.

He could do this, though. He had to. For Fred.

“Is it still Tuesday?” Rosalie asked as she trudged down the stairs. She’d changed into a pair of workout shorts and a tank-top—routine slayer-wear—and though she was reaching adulthood, she looked to him so much like the child he’d first met her as that it stole his breath for a moment.

“Yes,” Wesley answered carefully. “Faith and Nick were good enough to take a call.”

“Problem?”

“Just a reinfestation. The Hendrickses didn’t adhere to our post-exorcism to-dos and now the demon has returned.”

Rosalie rolled her eyes. “They know they pay full price if they don’t follow the contract to the letter, right? You said that?”

“I was very clear.” Wesley rose to his feet on shaky legs, and dipped a hand into his pocket. “Rosalie… This is going to seem a bit…awkward, but I didn’t want to do this in front of others.”

Her eyebrows shot skyward. “Do what? Am I in trouble?”

“No, no. Of course not.” He forced a smile and stepped forward. “It’s… I found something. Of Fred’s.”

Now her gaze widened with the same recalled grief that he breathed in every day, though at the moment he couldn’t summon it. The lie had come to him too easily for that, and his gut twisted.

“Oh Wes, are you okay?”

“Yes. Well… Actually, no.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket and watched her eyes brighten as they wandered over the jewel-encrusted metal band that Lilah Morgan had given him to slip onto a slayer’s wrist. “I was clearing things out… Your father advised me to do that and…I suppose you know that Faith and I are…”

She jerked her focus from the bracelet to his face again. “I’d heard. Not like, _heard_ you guys, but that you were…something.”

Wesley swallowed and nodded. “I thought it might be better if I were to…begin to move things out. And I found this in with the items for our wedding.” He didn’t have to fake the emotion that clouded his throat. “Fred was… Well, she went through a phase before she got into academics. Rebellious, hardheaded, into some questionable fashion choices…”

A soft, sad laugh bubbled off Rosalie’s lips, and when he looked up he saw she was crying.

And then, right then, he felt lower than he had at any other point in his life.

But he kept talking.

“I think she would want you to have this,” he said. He held out the bracelet. Like the hitch in his voice, the tremor in his hand was one hundred percent real.

For a long moment, they stood there, him holding out the bracelet and Rosalie staring at it with a mixture of awe and grief. And during that moment, Wesley experienced a rush of anxiety, misgiving, perhaps that he had overplayed, that all of this would be for naught, and Rosalie wouldn’t accept it. Perhaps tell him that she couldn’t because it was Fred’s and Fred’s things, like Fred herself, belonged to him.

Tears burned the back of his eyes.

But then Rosalie choked out a sob and threw herself into Wesley’s arms, shuddering against him as a child might. “Oh Wes, thank you,” she cried into his shoulder. “I miss her so much.”

The knife in his chest twisted. “I know.”

She sniffled, then pulled back, her sparkling eyes falling on the bracelet. “This is… Thank you for doing it away from the others. They didn’t know Fred and…this is special.” She grinned tremulously, took the bracelet, and slipped it over her hand.

Wes didn’t release the breath he’d been holding until he saw the metal dangling clearly from her wrist, and the realization that Rosalie trusted him wholeheartedly nearly knocked him to his knees.

Regret was instant, but he could do nothing about it now. The bracelet couldn’t be removed. He’d played his hand and won.

Funny how it didn’t feel that way.


	18. Chapter 18

Well, this was awkward. As the sun came up over the horizon, Kelly made the choice to head to the Winnebago. There was the hidden cell she had originally been after, as well as a stocked fridge full of blood bags to keep her from bursting out like a Snickers commercial. Sam and Dean followed, the latter immediately setting out to hot-wire the RV and the former was on the phone getting an update of something that didn’t sound related to Zack or Buffy.

“I’m gonna start heading this west,” Dean called out once he got the engine revving. “Best course of action sounds like meet up with Wright and devise a plan unless we got an idea on who or what or why or dude where’s my fucking car.”

“I’m really sorry about all this,” Kelly said with a pout.

“Unless you were in on kidnapping Baby with Billy Idol, you don’t need to apologize.” Dean paused. “The fuck? Yeah, you tried to kill us. Twice. And the whole reason we stopped in that cemetery was we saw _you_ and were worried _you_ were being attacked, Attacker! Yeah, I want all the apologies.”

“Dean,” Sam chastised.

“I’m sorry, guys.” Kelly felt the waterworks bubbling under the surface. She took a steadying breath. “This was already a pretty fucked up idea before meeting you two in that cemetery.”

“About that,” Sam asked slowly. “I know you’re vampires and cemeteries are… You know…”

Dean was less worried of being blunt. “Are y’all some freaky freaks or did you want to be walking stereotypes?”

A pang hit Kelly in the chest as she realized that Zack would like these two if he ever got to know them. “When,” she murmured to herself.

“Huh?” Sam asked.

She shook her head. “To answer your question would probably lead to more questions.”

“Freaky freaks.” Dean clicked his tongue. “Noted.”

She rolled her eyes, but gave Sam a small smile. “I haven’t been like this forever, you know. Actually I didn’t turn until after my son William was born.”

“You had kids?” Sam was wide-eyed.

“ _Have_ kids,” Kelly corrected. “And yes. Rosie and William. Rosie is still in elementary and William is going into kindergarten next year.”

“Wow,” the men said in unison. Dean added, “And here I thought we had fucked up childhoods.”

Kelly nodded. “It’s been a struggle. Rosie is a Seer, so I’ve had to cover some issues a little outside the normal parenting books.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

Kelly sighed. “I made the choice. First when Zack was dying I was so stricken with fear that I begged Spike to turn him. Afterwards…” She swallowed back the emotions that were hidden beneath her words. “I dunno. I may have made a mistake.”

“Wait!” Dean turned his eyes off the road to give her an incredulous glance. “You chose to become a vampire?”

She gave a nervous giggle. “Who does that, right?” She shook her head. “It made sense at the time. My husband was one and due to… I don’t know if it was the location or the witches or Fate… We were guaranteed our souls. Which was totally false advertising.”

“What do you mean?” Sam appeared to be nothing but questions.

Kelly ignored this one for the moment. “I told myself I’d be able to protect and watch over my children for their entire lives. A parent’s dream…except the part where you remember you have to go on even after they’re gone.” She shuddered at the words and her eyes began to tear. “But it was going to be okay. I was going to have my soulmate with me until the end of the world.”

“We’ll get him back,” Dean gruffly assured. “After I get my Baby and a few punches into that peroxide-loving asshole.”

“I want you to,” Kelly said before pausing. “The first part. The second I wouldn’t advise. He’s a couple centuries old and despite appearances, the deadliest person since Hitler.”

“I killed Hitler!” Dean said with glee.

Kelly didn’t even respond as her mind had turned back to its focus. “Zack and I separated.” She paused. “Not physically because, duh. Marriage separated. Life separated. And I haven’t decided if I ever want to unseparate.”

Sam gave her a sympathetic look. “Did he cheat on you?” he gently questioned.

“Yeah,” she said sharply. “With several women. Along with almost kill his son. Actually kill multiple people including a slayer and a really good woman. Oh, he tried to rape his niece, Rosalie, and kill his other unborn niece.” She took a breath. “Did I mention torture my best friend, Buffy?”

There was a long silence after that. Once again it was Dean who spoke first. “Just a question…why are we trying to save this fucker?”

“Dean!” Sam admonished in an exaggerated whisper. Then he paused. “Buffy is kidnapped, too.”

“Now you know what I’m struggling with over here,” Kelly cried. “Does it really matter whether or not he had his soul at the time?”

She was not expecting the reaction she received.

“Totally,” came from Sam as Dean replied, “Hell yes.”

“What?” Kelly said in confusion.

“Look,” Sam said, bringing his hands up in a gesture of pause. “It’s really bad what happened and all. No doubt about it. But he had no control over himself if he was suddenly soulless and a vampire. Hell, I did some really shitty things soulless and I was still human.”

“When I was a demon, I would have totally done that evil shit if I had had a wife and kids and a secret plan of evil or something,” Dean admitted. “Instead, I just had a lot of booze and sex and fights with anything that crossed my path.”

Kelly blinked. “You two…you what?”

Sam gave a nervous chuckle. “I guess what we’re trying to say is that you aren’t as alone as you think you are. Dean and I have done a lot.”

“And done a lot to each other,” his brother added.

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “But you can’t hold onto everything that happens when you’re soulless or possessed or turned into a demon. Because nothing is more important than family. Nothing is more important than knowing at the end of the road there’s someone there who forgives you for anything. Even when you can’t forgive yourself.”

Kelly was speechless. Deep down in her very soul, a light came on that had been dim for a year. _Nothing is more important than family._ Zack hadn’t been Zack. Zack wasn’t Spike. She had to accept that just because Spike wasn’t a monster without a soul, Zack might be. But it wasn’t the monster she loved. It was Zack. The Zack Morris with a soul and a mischievous personality that would be anything to get what he wanted, but was loving and loyal no matter what.

Somewhere out there was her soulmate. She needed to find him and she needed to forgive him. For her children and herself and ultimately for the man she loved. Because after a year, she finally realized she’d always love him.

*~*~*

The first hour or so had actually been pleasant. After a reasonable amount of chitchat, the car quieted and Sam had dozed off for a nap. Upon awakening, he’d taken the chance to respond back to the emails and texts cluttering up his phone. While he’d officially told everyone he was taking a couple weeks off to make a decision on the exploratory committee findings, he was secretly taking time to meet his lovechild and help his best friend fix his royally fucked-up life. And now recover holy nails so an angel could kill a zombie.

Not that he wasn’t doing what he said. He was totally telling the truth about deciding to run for president. He just did the expertly political move of omit some otherwise pertinent details.

Everyone expected him to run. A month ago, he’d expected to run. All that had changed when he saw Willow that night at the fundraiser. She had that ability to completely and had irrevocably changed his life trajectory in an instant. And he really liked that about her.

He was going to have to talk to Willow about this. Being a part of Oz’s life wasn’t even a question. He still hadn’t warmed fully to the name because honestly, who was really excited to have their child named after the mother’s ex boyfriend? But he was going to be a dad. A better one than he’d had growing up. That part was negotiable.

But whether he was going to put her and Oz through the process of running and potentially becoming president was. He knew the press would find out and he really didn’t care to hide it. But he knew that Willow deserved to have a choice in the matter. Even if that choice meant giving up his dream, because that was the right thing to do in a situation where so much had been wrong. Because how could he look people in the eye and tell them he would be a good president if he couldn’t even look Willow in the eye and tell her he was a good man?

A sudden swerve of the car broke Sam’s internal monologue. They were approaching the outskirts of Los Angeles and the traffic was beginning to thicken. After looking to Josh in the driver’s seat, he noted that the man looked tenser than Sam would prefer. “Hey, you want me take over? I’m feeling pretty rested up.”

“No,” Josh said as he merged to a new freeway. “I got this. Sit back, Sam. It’s all about to be over soon.”

*~*~*

This, Zack Wright had to admit, he hadn’t missed about being on the road. What would have been a three-hour-and-some-change trip via airfare became twenty-seven hours if driven straight through. And seeing as time was of the essence, they weren’t about to check into a motel.

Though he was definitely going to take up inconvenient means of transportation with Giles. Or Willow. Or one of the politicians he knew. Someone had to have a solution for a demon hunter who needed to get somewhere fast and take a small arsenal along with him.

Cordelia stirred next to him before blinking her eyes open and favoring him with a sleepy smile. “Good morning, sunshine.”

Wright didn’t mean to, but he growled at her.

She snorted. “Nice. Is that your way of telling me it’s my turn to drive?”

They had been switching off every four hours. Gunn was currently curled into a ball in the back. Wright hadn’t bought his truck with road trips in mind, but there hadn’t been any better alternatives with the stuff they had with them. He was just glad Gunn had been able to find the cover for the truck’s bed, because at the speeds they were traveling, they’d have lost pretty much everything.

“I saw an exit a few miles back,” Wright said. “We can fill-up and switch off then.”

“This is going on the company card, right?”

Buffy and Zack had been abducted. If that wasn’t a case for Wright & Pryce, he wasn’t sure what was.

“Yeah. And—hey. Do you see that or am I hallucinating?”

Ahead, coming toward them like the proverbial bat out of hell, was a Chevy Impala. Wright shook his head and blinked a few times, then swore under his breath. “Nope. Not hallucinating.”

“What?” Cordelia turned back to the road, her brow furrowed. “That ugly old car?”

Wright snickered. “Think I just solved one of our problems…”

He waited until the Impala was practically on top of him, said a quick prayer to the auto mechanic gods, and swerved a hard left. Spike had nowhere to go—the road was too narrow and encased in a concrete embankment. The squeal of brakes being slammed filled the air, along with a slew of curses from his wife and a hard thunk from the demon hunter in the back, but Wright didn’t respond to either of them. He was out of the truck before the keys were out of the ignition.

“Somebody has just cashed in their death wish!” Spike roared as he tore out of the driver’s seat. “Trust me, mate, I’m not a guy you want off the bloody wag—what the bleeding hell are you doing here?”

Wright held up his hands. Not once in all the years he’d known him had he allowed himself to forget what Spike was—save, of course, the years he’d forgotten Spike entirely. When you called a soulless vampire your best friend, and god help him he did, forgetting the _soulless_ part wasn’t an option. There was always a chance he’d have to put him down. And if anything could push Spike over the edge, it was losing Buffy.

“Heard what happened,” Wright said. “Got a call from a friend. A friend whose car you stole.”

Spike blinked and looked over his shoulder as though expecting to see something other than the Impala parked behind him. “Yeah, I’d feel right terrible about that,” he replied, turning back slowly, “if someone hadn’t stolen my bloody _wife._ You’re chums with those Winchester wankers—bloody figures. They let you know that the Slayer and your brother are missing, or hop right to tattling on me for trying to do something about it?”

“And how are you doing something about it? You know where Buffy’s been taken?”

Spike lifted his chin, his eyes shining with defiance. “Know her scent, don’t I?”

“Spike, you’re a vampire, not a goddamn bloodhound. How are you following her scent? Sticking your head out…” Wright closed his eyes and huffed a quick laugh. “You’re sticking your head out the window. Maybe you are a bloodhound.”

Spike tightened his jaw, and for a moment, Wright thought he might take a swing at him. Then he shook his head and sighed—one of those full body sighs that made him look small and defeated. “I lost it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Lost her. No bloody clue which way is up. Zangy, mate, you gotta help me.”

Wright lowered his hands and moved close enough to draw his friend into a hug. “Of course we’re helping,” he said, thumping Spike once hard on the back. “We’re all helping.”

“All?”

“Duh,” Cordelia agreed, shoving Wright aside so she could get her hug in. “Like we’d stay home for this. We’re all helping.”

“All of us,” Gunn said from where he stood by the open truck door. “But I ain’t hugging you, man.”

“And if we get their car back to them, the Winchesters will help too,” Wright said. “They’re good guys—at least their dad was. Went on a few hunts with Dean and haven’t seen Sam since he was a kid, but they’ll help.”

“I’m not about to turn around and head back, so don’t bloody ask it.”

“I’m not.” Wright nodded to the truck. “How about we switch?”

“And you, what? Head back to the scene of the bloody crime? What good’s that gonna do the Slayer?”

“Well, we’ll get two experienced hunters on our side. Plus, I’d hate to be the guy who tells my brother you abandoned his wife. Even if they’re on the outs, he’s not gonna take that lightly.”

Spike snorted and rolled his eyes, then nodded. “Yeah, right.” He dove a hand into his pocket. “Give that there to Kelly. Oughta make travelin’ easier.”

Cordelia leaned over to take a look at Wright’s hand. “You left her without a ring? Damn, baby, that’s cold.”

“Wasn’t exactly thinkin’, was I? Fuck, I almost doctored up the car for daylight travelin’ before I remembered I had these on me.” Spike looked back to Wright. “Get that to Kelly. Then what?”

“I’ll call Willow. See if she can start a location spell.”

“Call? Since when did that wonky school of hers get cell service?”

“She’s in the States. Northern California, actually.” Wright turned to Cordelia. “Give him your phone.”

“What?”

“Spike doesn’t have a phone and I need a way to stay in touch.”

Cordelia’s jaw dropped. “You don’t have a phone? What the hell year are you living in?”

Spike growled but didn’t reply. Just waited, hand out, while Cordelia dug into her pocket and drew out her cell.

“You crack the case and you’re a dead man,” she said.

“I’ll try really hard to care,” he replied and stuffed the phone into his duster pocket. Then he held out his hand to Wright. “Keys, then.”

“We have some things we need to move from the truck.”

“Then get movin’,” Spike snapped. “I got a slayer to find.”

*~*~*

Buffy was scaring herself. And she was scaring Zack. Not that he’d said anything, but she could tell. There hadn’t been much occasion in the past for her to completely lose her shit, and when there was, there was almost always a magical reason. But her monster was close to the surface—so close she could almost swear she felt it clawing at the underside of her skin.

“You…destroyed these guys,” Zack said, surveying the carnage around them, his expression slack. “You didn’t even let me have one.”

Buffy shrugged, hoping she concealed how rattled she was. Her hands were covered in purplish blood, which also had no scent, and bits of demon innards clung to her hair. She’d lapped at the blood experimentally just on the off-chance it did hit the spot. No dice.

“Buffy?”

“I need…blood.” She eyed the scarred flesh of her hand. “It’s…bad. It’s never been this bad.”

“Okay. We’ll get you blood.” A pause. “Do you think you need to wear the Lecter mask until then?”

She glared at him.

Zack brought up his hands. “Just checking, okay?”

The van had been rolling through a sleepy town when Zack had freed Buffy of her bonds, which was the best kind of luck. They had each grabbed an axe and made enough noise to get the demons in front to trek around again. The second the back had opened, and Buffy saw that the sun had indeed set, she’d leaped into motion and hadn’t come up until the last of their ugly captors lay twitching on the ground. Every swing had felt like its own little orgasm, her muscles tense and her demon roaring and all the frustration and fear she’d kept bottled inside had exploded out of her.

It was a good thing Zack was there to keep her focused, else she might have just stood there and stared at the bodies around her until the sun rose and she shuffled off this mortal coil forever.

“Spike used to have a car, right?”

Buffy shook her head, her heart lurching. _Spike._ She hadn’t let herself think about him too much since she’d first awoken, but now…

God, she had to get to him.

“Buff?”

“What?”

“Spike had a car. A Desoto, right? Before?”

She frowned. “Uhh, yeah.”

“How’d he get around in the daylight?”

“What?”

Zack released what looked to be a very patient breath. “You and me. Very flammable. No rings.” He pointed to his bare ring finger. “Sun very hot. Make vampies go boom. We no likey.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Spray paint and Kraft paper. That’s what he used.”

“Simple yet brilliant.” Zack grinned and hitched a thumb over his shoulder, where she saw a vacant town square, complete with a hardware store. “Some light B&E would count as ‘become better vampires training’, wouldn’t it?”

Buffy nodded, but her stomach gave a loud growl.

“Okay. We need to get you fed.”

“What about you?”

“I’m hungry, and though I think I have a cross-shaped tramp stamp from those crucifixes, you almost actually went kablooey. Plus…” He waved at the mess of demon limbs that she’d left behind. “I know that always makes me hungry.”

Buffy nodded, then sniffed at the air. “Wait. Human. Close.” Another inhale. “Two of them. Looks like someone’s going home late.”

“Buff—”

But she was already gone, sprinting hard toward the intoxicating scent. Everything in her went on autopilot, her brain taking a back seat to her baser instincts. She knew Zack was right behind her, and though she heard him yelling her name, it didn’t register that he meant for her to stop. Or at the very least to slow down. But she couldn’t. Her fangs itched to freedom, the bones in her face shifting, and then she was in the air, a snarl tearing out of her mouth.

The only person Buffy had ever bitten, aside from when she’d sired Kelly, was Spike. He always made it so much fun. Never had Buffy bitten in hunger, so it didn’t occur to her that screams ringing her ears had erupted from the throat she was digging into. Not with warm, delicious blood suddenly coating her tongue. Someone pushed at her and she growled and pushed back, clamping her hands around a pair of pliable upper arms and squeezing until something cracked. The pain that had tagged her all day began to subside, taking her fatigue with it. She drank and drank and god it was so good, why would anyone ever stop?

“Buffy!” Someone was pulling at her, screaming her name. “Buffy, you’re killing him. Stop it. _Stop!”_

And then she did stop. Something in her brain clicked and she realized she was fangs deep into an unknown person’s neck. Buffy pulled away with a gasp, stumbling back and wiping at her mouth. The man abruptly fell to his knees, his hand at his throat, his skin so pale he looked near dead.

“Oh god,” Buffy said, beginning to tremble. “Oh god. Oh my god.”

“You killed him!” someone screamed. A woman pushed past her and fell to her knees beside the man. “Howard! Howard, sweetie—”

“Call an ambulance,” Zack said tersely. “Do it now.” He turned back to Buffy. “Go get whatever we need from that hardware store. I’ll stay here.”

Buffy shook her head, her gaze glued to the pallor of the man she’d almost drained. “Zack…I killed him.”

“No, you didn’t. He’s still alive. You hear his heart?”

She did. It sounded stronger than she would have thought. That had to be a good sign, right?

“He’ll make it. He’s just in shock.”

“H-how do you know?”

But that was a stupid question. Zack had become fairly intimate with death the previous year. If anyone would know, it’d be him.

Something he evidently decided didn’t need to be explained, because he didn’t bother trying. Instead, he waved at her. “Go get our stuff. And you.” He looked back to Howard’s companion. “Give me your jacket.”

“Why?” she asked, obeying as she did so. Her eyes went wide when Zack tore off the arm sleeve like a regular man might tear a tissue.

“Gotta staunch the bleeding. And why haven’t you called for help yet?” He met Buffy’s gaze again. “He’ll be fine. I got to you before it got too bad. But you need to get our stuff because that’s one conversation I don’t want to have with paramedics.”

She gave a shaky nod, then turned and forced herself toward the store.

She’d almost done it tonight—become the thing she hated. Another ten seconds, fifteen, and there would be no need to call the paramedics.

Sometime, she’d have to thank Zack. He’d just saved her life.

And chances were he didn’t know it.

*~*~*

“Mate, you sure some bloke named Giles lives here?”

Josh threw Harry what the latter thought was a wholly unnecessary look of condescension. But being that he was in America, such looks were becoming more the norm.

“Of course he doesn’t live here,” Josh said, unbuckling his seatbelt. “This is a law office.”

“Yeah, I can read. Seems if we’re off to get some holy nails, we might go where he’s likely to keep them.”

Sam shifted, cracking open the passenger side door. “It’s after five,” he said. “Why don’t we just go to his place?”

“He’s a workaholic,” Josh said, waving a hand. “Trust me, he’ll be here.”

“You spend lots of time with this guy, then?” Harry asked. Something was extremely not right. He reached into his pocket and curled his fingers around the familiar holly and phoenix-feather wand, reassured when it warmed against his skin. He had a feeling he’d be needing it.

“Since we learned vampires and wizards were real, we’ve kept in contact.”

The frown on Sam’s face told Harry that they were on the same page.

Harry braced himself for disillusionment charms or any of the security measures he’d might otherwise expect at the Ministry, or Gringotts, but they entered the lobby of Wolfram and Hart, attorneys at law, without much fanfare. A pretty girl at the front desk seemed to recognize Josh, and beamed a friendly smile as he led the party to a set of elevators.

Still, the unease hadn’t let up. Harry gritted his teeth.

“Josh, what’s going on?” Sam asked as the elevators dinged on the sixth floor. “Willow never once mentioned that this Giles person was a lawyer. I thought he was Buffy’s former Watcher.”

Josh just shrugged, marching with intent through a labyrinth of halls he seemed to know well. “He can be more than one thing, Sam.”

“Josh.”

But Josh had disappeared inside an office. Sam paused just long enough to favor Harry with a concerned look, then made to follow. Harry steeled himself and did the same.

The office he entered was large—comically so. A magnificent bookcase took up the left wall, a matching desk in the center of the room. Wide, open windows overlooked a gorgeous view of the city, and sitting behind the desk was a pretty woman with the most unsettling smile Harry had seen since the days of Dolores Umbridge.

Yeah. Something was very wrong.

“Mr. Lyman,” the woman said, rising to her feet. “Just in time. And Mr. Seaborn. I have been so eager to meet you.” She gestured across her desk. “I believe you already know Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.”

That was when Harry saw the other man—a chap maybe a few years older than him, whose haggard appearance said plainly that this was one meeting he didn’t mind being interrupted.

The woman then fixed her gaze on him, and something within Harry went rigid.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone but Mr. Seaborn,” she said, the smile not reaching her eyes. “Mr. Lyman, who is your friend?”

“I’m—”

“James Ersnape,” Sam said quickly, shooting Harry a look of warning—one Harry instantly understood. And when Josh didn’t correct him, the reality of what was happening began to set in.

They’d been had.

Harry tightened his grip on his wand.

And he had to be prepared to fight his way out.


	19. Chapter 19

“I have a proposition,” Nick declared as he shut the door and picked up the bag of food and carrier of drinks he’d momentarily placed on the car’s roof.

Faith cast him a sideways glance. “We talked about this last night, Happy Pants.”

“Not that I’m not flattered, but not what I had in mind. No, I was proposing we have a quick bite.” He rattled the paper sack of burgers and fries for emphasis. “Then we make our way down to Caritas and throw back a pint or twenty.”

“That sounds like a great idea! Except everything you just said.” She reached over and grabbed the bag from him before taking off walking toward the door of the Hyperion and rummaging inside the sack for fries.

“We take Ro and Wes, too. Make it a thing.”

She glared at him. “What? A double date? I know she asked you to pop her cherry, but she’s still jailbait, even if she’s begging.”

“How do you…and no!” Fuck, he was a masochist. Whose best friend busts their balls this much? “I was merely suggesting that things have been a little intense as of late. The whole kidnapping situation, Rosalie dropping out, you and whatever we’re calling it with Wes, and Rosalie had a bit of a scare the other night on patrol.” We he caught her eyes flash wide, he quickly went on. “It was fine in the end. Actually, I think it’s what put her on this whole virgin hysteria.”

“That and she’s a hormonal teenager with Slayer blood running through the veins. Yeah, she needs all the porn and vibrators.” She stuffed a handful of fries in her mouth just before saying, “That’s what I’m doing for her today.”

Nick reddened. “Sorry, but did you just say you’re taking my Slayer to a sex shop?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said after she swallowed. “Instead of Caritas, you wanna go to the store for me? I’ll throw in a little extra so you can buy yourself those anal beads you’ve always wanted to try.”

“Fuck off,” Nick growled. “I was just trying to come up with something nice after Wright obviously busted your arse this morning.”

She stopped walking. “Actually he didn’t, fuck you very much.”

“Bloody hell then. Why’ve you been such a—”

“I dare you to finish that sentence.”

“Bitch,” he said with false bravado. He was pretty hungry and didn’t want her to spoil the food kicking his ass in the parking lot.

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. Just as soon as he was sure she’d haul off and punch him, she sighed and plunged her hand back into the bag of food. “He just asked me to cleverly disguise myself as a responsible adult. Keeping Rosalie safe and…” She paused and smashed another bunch of fries in her mouth. This time she chewed and swallowed before talking. “Keep you boys from fucking things up.”

“Well, back to my proposition then. Where’s things safer than Caritas?”

“Why did I fuck you again?” she asked as she opened the door and walking inside the Hyperion.

“Probably the many, many orgasms I gave you.” Nick looked up to see Rosalie standing before them and his heart fell on the floor.

“Well,” the younger Slayer said slowly. “I came down when I saw you two get back on the security camera, but now I really wish I hadn’t.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” Faith said, passing the bag off to her. “There wasn’t as many as he thinks.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Nick snapped, angrily pulling a chocolate shake from the carrier and thrusting it at Rosalie.

“Fine,” Faith said with a shrug as she turned to walk off toward the kitchen. “There’s was enough that chances are he’ll get you off once you two sneak off and play hide the pickle.”

Why Nick looked at her, he didn’t know. He and Rosalie locked eyes and it was impossible to tell which one was more mortified. Nick stood, awkwardly paralyzed, as Rosalie eventually looked away and brought the straw of her milkshake up her lips. That’s when he saw someone sparkle from her wrist.

“What is that?” he asked, gently reaching out to grasp her wrist.

“Oh!” Rosalie relaxed somewhat and a smile blossomed across her face. “It belonged to Fred. Wes gave it to me to help remember her by. It’s kinda flashy, I don’t care. I love it!”

Nick didn’t release his hold. “It looks very pretty,” he said measuredly. “But also very antique.”

“So?” she said, finding herself and pulling back.

“It’s just…” How to word it without sounding like a dick. “Fred, from my understanding, had very…particular tastes.”

“Damn, Hunter.” Faith had turned back around from her journey to the kitchen. “Way to get her wet and ready. Wanna insult and other dead people? Maybe her mom?”

Nick gave the raven-haired woman a glare before focusing back to Rosalie. “Occult. Fine. She had a thing for things that weren’t always safe.” He looked back to Faith. “Remember the keeping Rosalie safe thing?”

Both Slayers scoffed in unison. Nick shook his head in frustration. “If either of you had paid attention to the history of your ancestors, you’d know that more than one of you have died as a result of cursed objects. And jewels, which this”—he said, grabbing her wrist—“has in spades, are the easiest carriers of spells and curses.”

“Fine,” Rosalie snapped. “Check it out. But then, this thing is never leaving my wrist again. Jerk.” She took her arm once again and reached over to remove the bracelet. She fidgeted with it for several seconds before giving a nervous giggle. “The clasp is stuck.”

Nick grabbed her wrist for a third time and now worked on removing the bracelet. For the life of him, he couldn’t get the bloody thing off either.

“Y’all are pathetic,” Faith snickered as she came forward and took the young Slayer’s arm from his grasp.

“Don’t break it!” Rosalie warned.

“Sure.” At first, it seemed that Faith was going to try and spare the jewelry, but a few moments frustration made her pull in earnest. Soon it was apparent, she was trying her damndest to get the thing off.

A sickening feeling came over Nick as he looked up at his Slayer. “Faith?”

She grunted, but didn’t reply as she was still trying to pull the bracelet off.

“Faith, you remember the whole ‘us guys fucking up’ thing? I think that Wes accidentally giving her a cursed bracelet might’ve just broke your promise.”

*~*~*

Sam was taking advantage of the quiet as he drove the Winnebago down the road. Dean had found refuge in the bedroom in the back while Kelly had covered herself in a blanket in the kitchenette and seemed to have fallen asleep. He hadn’t even bothered to find any music on the radio and was finding the simple task of steering the massive vehicle straightly between the lines it somewhat calming.

That’s why the ringing phone in his flannel shirt pocket scared the shit out of him. With a jerk of the wheel and a curse, he regained control of the RV and his composure. “Hello?”

“What has two thumbs and the keys to a sweet Chevy Impala?”

“Seriously?” he questioned dumbly. Why would Wright have cause to lie?

“This motherfucker is correct,” the other hunter crowed through the phone. “Tell Dean I give no guarantees, but as of now she’s looking pretty good.”

“That’s awesome!” Sam released a sigh of relief. “Where are you?”

“Well, we dipped down New Mexico and are making our way through the western part of Oklahoma.”

“Fuck, I didn’t realize how slow this Winnebago actually was. We are in Texas, almost to the southeast of Oklahoma. We started heading back toward our base in Kansas because we had no idea where to track the car or Buffy.”

“Yeah, the car was a lucky shot actually, but I’m still taking all the credit.”

“Sure.”

“As for Buffy and Zack, Spike was trying to track their scent, but had lost it. I’m guessing he was circling the last place he had a hit, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Yeah, our friend Cas should be able to help when he gets the thing with the Inferi done. Your friends seemed to have that covered.”

“Yeah, I was about to check in with Willow and see if she could work some mojo.”

“We’ve got a witch, too. Rowena isn’t exactly the most trustworthy person, but she’s easy to bribe.”

“Excellent. So we meeting around Oklahoma City or you want to head up toward Kansas?”

“Kansas. We really need to check in on Cas. I know he can handle himself, but keeping a zombie locked up in the armory isn’t exactly the easiest babysitting gig.”

“Gotcha.” Sam heard the familiar sound of the Impala starting up. “Where we headed?”

“Lebanon, Kansas.”

“Gunn will Google. I’ll call or text when we get close.” Sam heard the engine rev. “Now if you excuse me, John Winchester was a prick and never let me drive this son of a bitch.” Sam heard the tires squeal and the accelerator max out. “And you better fucking believe I’m about to scare my wife shitless.”

Sam chuckled as the line went dead. It seemed as though things were starting to go right.

*~*~*

Something was very, very wrong. Granted, Josh hadn’t really seemed like his old self for a while, but that had easily been explained by trying to balance running the White House with also processing this entire supernatural reality they had all been exposed to back during the Bartlet administration.

But now? Josh wasn’t making eye contact. All he did was look at this woman who was obviously not the man he had thought to meet. But there was another man and Sam looked to him. “Are you Giles?”

Shock colored the man’s expression. “Rupert Giles? Why no, why?”

“We just… We we were supposed to be meeting him here.”

“Oh god!” The not Giles man cried.

The woman laughed. “He’s not here, yet. Though I imagine he will be once he finds out about his precious slayer. We’ll have ourselves a whole little mob of outraged little puppets.” She looked at the man who was not Giles once again. “And I’d suggest you just get comfy and wait for your vampire, Wesley. Once that bracelet detonates, they’ll be suspicious as to why they’ll have a second dead slayer on their hands.”

“WHAT?!?” Wesley roared.

Lilith ignored the cry that rattled the walls and turned her attention to Sam. “Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Seaborn. Our friend Josh led you here under a bit of a false pretense. I have no intention of introducing you to Mr. Giles.”

Sam looked to Harry in panic before looking to Josh and then the woman. “I’m sorry, Miss…”

“Morgan. But please, call me Lilah. I’d like to be on a first name basis with the next President of the United States.”

Something in her voice chilled him to the bone. “Morgan,” he continued. “But we had specific instructions from Willow—”

“Don’t worry about Willow. In fact, after this conversation, you’ll never think about Willow again.” She gave an icy smile and picked up the phone on her desk. “Yes, please send in security and the beverage we made for Mr. Seaborn.”

*~*~*

Wesley had been on edge ever since watching Rosalie slip that bloody bracelet over her wrist, a combination of nerves, excitement, and dread pooling in his belly. He’d told himself he would feel better once he spoke with Lilah, but the words she’d just spoken—combined with the hard look in her eyes—had him blowing past dread to outright panic.

“You said the bracelet would drain her strength,” he heard himself saying faintly. “Remove the burden of her calling.”

Lilah cast him a narrow, annoyed look. “From what I hear, there’s not much that can burden a dead woman.”

“You never said anything about killing her!”

“And here I thought I wouldn’t have to, being that you were a _Watcher._ The slayer is a part of the girl, you moron. You can’t remove it without killing her.”

A dull ringing took up the space in Wesley’s ears, his heart beginning to thump. Oh god. Oh dear _god,_ what had he done?

“I want out,” he choked out. “Cancel our deal. Let Zack live.”

Now Lilah laughed, the sound harsh and terrible. “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, you know better than that. In fact, I think a part of you knew it when you first came into my office. Wolfram and Hart has dedicated itself to numerous special projects over the years, but to be the lawyer who effectively ends the slayer line? I might just be on a fast-track to becoming partner.”

It just kept getting worse. “E-ends?”

“The line is tied to the active slayer’s power. That’s Rosalie Wright. And you just sold that line to us.” She shrugged. “It was a gamble—getting _any_ slayer’s power would have been a boon, but that you chose the girl the Powers consider active was just… Serendipity.”

Wesley stood so fast the chair tipped over. He cast a glance at the newcomers. The governor of California, whose expression was slack with horror, and the other man. He looked somewhat familiar with his mess of untidy black hair and spectacles—somewhat like a Harry Potter cosplayer—but the look on his face was stony, almost murderous.

“Relax,” Lilah said, waving a hand. “You’re getting what you wanted out of this deal.”

But he wasn’t. Not at all. Buffy had been taken alongside Zack, and there was no reason to think Wolfram and Hart would let her live. Hell, perhaps they’d planned it. Kill two slayers at once, one being the oldest and most experienced of the lot, and Faith was the only one left standing.

“Now,” Lilah continued, turning back to Sam Seaborn with an apologetic smile. “Mr. Governor, please, have a seat. Your drink and new security team should join us at any moment.”

“I’m not staying,” Seaborn said. “Josh, what the hell is this?”

“The future, Sam,” the other man replied. “You knew I’d do anything to get you in the White House.”

“But…” He shook his head as though trying to clear it, then gestured at Wesley. “They’ve just _killed_ a girl! This isn’t you.” He turned back to Lilah, eyes blazing. “What have you done to him?”

If Lilah was at all bothered by the turn of the meeting, she didn’t let it show. “I gave him what he always wanted.” She paused, then rolled her eyes. “Well, I tried to, at least. He wasn’t very amendable at first, even if we were essentially offering to fund the entire campaign. I’d heard things about Mr. Lyman that made me think he’d be a bit more persuadable…but he objected to our methods. Particularly,” she added with a significant look at Seaborn, “when we told him that under no circumstance was Ms. Rosenberg to contact you. While he agreed it was for the best that she didn’t, he was a bit too reluctant to do anything about it.”

Seaborn had gone white as a sheet. “You,” he said hoarsely. “You’re why Willow… Why she… Why _he_ …”

Lilah shrugged. “Like I said, it was better for your political career. Wolfram and Hart had only your best interest in mind.”

“Then why are you spilling everything like a bloody Bond villain?” Wesley snapped.

“Because once our Obliviator arrives, you’re not going to remember this, anyway,” Lilah replied dryly. “And truthfully? I love this part of the job. A lot of planning went into this and I’d like my hard work acknowledged.”

“You know Willow won’t stand for this,” Wes said hurriedly, the wheels in his brain churning. “She’s too powerful. She works at bloody Hogwarts, for god’s sake.”

“And the father of her child is about to make a very public engagement to Ainsley Hayes.” The lawyer shrugged. “Worst case scenario, she goes home. Best case scenario? She gets even—Willow Rosenberg unhinged is a force to be reckoned with. We’ll take either.”

“You stay away from Willow,” Seaborn snapped. “Or I’ll—”

“You’re not doing anything but marrying Ainsley Hayes and becoming President of the United States. Spare me the threats.”

“What is it with you people and Ainsley? She has a boyfriend. She—”

“A boyfriend on our payroll, Mr. Seaborn. Pay attention.” Lilah smirked. “Who has been dosing her with a very potent potion so she’s ready to become the First Lady. I’m told she misses you tremendously.”

“She has never… That’s not us!”

“Amortentia begs to differ. As you’ll soon discover for yourself.”

“Amortentia…?” Seaborn looked to the Harry Potter cosplayer, who mouthed something that looked like, “Love potion.”

“Yes,” Lilah went on. “Josh was quite concerned when he learned the relationship was a sham, but we assured him that we had everything very much under control.”

“You Imperiused him, didn’t you?” the Harry Potter cosplayer said, his voice low.

Lilah flashed him a brilliant smile. “I see you’re not unfamiliar with some of our stronger techniques.”

“What the hell— _imperiused_?” Seaborn turned to his companion again. “What does that mean?”

“Means he’s not coming with us.”

“What do you—”

“ _Stupefy_!”

A blast of brilliant red light blazed through the room, making Wesley’s retinas burn. When his vision cleared, he saw Lilah had been thrown back against the wall and was knocked unconscious, her mouth hanging open.

What the bloody hell—

But there was no time to rationalize what he’d seen. Josh had rounded on Seaborn, the look in his eyes hard. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he snarled. “I don’t want to hurt—”

The Harry Potter cosplayer, whom Wesley was becoming increasingly convinced was actually Harry Potter, pointed what was unmistakably a wand at the man and shouted, _“Petrificus Totalus!”_

Instantly, Josh went rigid—all over. His legs snapped together, his arms flattened to his sides, and he toppled backward with a _thunk_.

“What… I don’t…” Seaborn was gaping. “What did you do to him?”

“Body binding jinx,” Harry said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We need to get the bloody hell out of here.”

“I can’t leave Josh.”

“Mate, we can’t take him with us. He’s under the Imperius Curse for one, and that woman said that security was on its way. If it wasn’t before, it damn well will be now and I won’t be able to get us out _and_ protect him at the same time.” He side-eyed Wesley, then shifted his want so the business end was aimed at his chest. “You’re coming with us.”

“Yes, of course—”

“We need to get to Rupert Giles for one, and you seem to know where I can find him.” Harry’s vivid green gaze hardened. “And then you’re going to tell us exactly whose life you sold so we can save it.”

The weight of what had just happened threatened to crash then, but Wesley couldn’t let himself think about it. Instead, he nodded shakily. “She was never supposed to die. I would never… If I’d known…” Tears began to burn his eyes. “I love that girl like a daughter.” He looked to Seaborn. “Like a daughter.”

But Seaborn didn’t look like he wanted to hear it, and from the thundering outside the office, Wesley had run out of time.

“All right,” Harry said, turning. “Stay behind me.” He pointed his wand at the door. _“Reducto!”_

There was an explosion of wood and plaster, a few surprised screams, and then Wesley was moving, and his world became nothing but angry yells and flying bursts of light.

*~*~*

Well, that was interesting.

Dean gave the report another read before rising to his feet. He hadn’t been able to sleep much—hell, how _anyone_ slept in this stupid-ass boat was beyond him. But with his head spinning, concocting colorful ways to kill a certain vampire, sleep had been a long-shot, anyway.

At least this was news they could do something about.

He found Sam doing his best impression of a school-bus driver, and made a mental note to give him shit for it later.

“Got a hit outta some little town in Texas,” he said by way of greeting, collapsing into the passenger seat. “Seems some crazy lady damn near tore out this dude’s neck.”

Sam flicked a gaze at him but otherwise didn’t take his eyes off the road. “Don’t think we should take on a new case right now. Bit busy.”

“Yeah, well, there was a guy with her. Made her stop. And apparently this chick just went to pieces after she saw what she’d done.” Dean arched an eyebrow. “Now, I don’t know what the hell to expect with this new breed of vampire, but that sounds like someone who mighta not wanted to actually take someone out to me. Report also says that the dude who was with her told this vic’s girlfriend to call an ambulance.”

Sam seemed to consider this. “How far outside of Natchez is this town?”

“About twelve hours, give or take.”

“So it could be them.”

“Could be. Or it could be another soulful vamp who’s trying to cut down on the good stuff.” Dean rolled his head back. “Nothing in this stupid world makes sense anymore.”

“I’ll call Wright,” Sam said, taking a hand off the wheel to pull out his phone. “Maybe he can get a message to Spike—”

“You mean that car-thievin’ son of a bitch?”

Sam just smirked. “Car’s been found. Wright has it now.”

Dean stared at him for a moment, his head going a bit fuzzy. “They got Baby?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re just telling me _now_?”

“You were asleep.”

“You get news about Baby, you wake me the fuck up. And you let me go on about some crazy-town vampire chick. I’ve been sitting here for two full minutes.”

“Well, finding Buffy is more important.” Sam rolled his eyes, which told Dean that he could feel his glare just fine. “Dude, I’m telling you now. Wright has the car and they’re gonna meet up with us. Spike’s still on the road and deserves to know if we have a lead.”

Dean folded his arms and sank into his seat. Yeah, that much made sense, he had to admit.

Still, when he saw that vampire again, he was going to punch the fucker so hard in the face his fangs came loose.

And then run really fast in the other direction.

*~*~*

Buffy didn’t so much as blink when Zack slammed the door. She’d been staring at the same spot since he’d ushered her into the car, willing her mind to stop playing what had happened back there on an endless loop. But her mind wasn’t built that way, so no matter what she did, she kept seeing it. Feeling it and tasting it. The man’s blood in her mouth, his heartbeat in her ears, the taste so damn intoxicating just the thought made her fangs itch.

Pig’s blood had nothing on human. Not that Buffy had ever really thought of blood of any kind as tasty—even after she’d turned, it had been more of a necessary evil. Spike had a few tricks that made it more palatable—for instance, she’d taken to applying a liberal amount of cinnamon and sugar to her concoction at home. Amplify the flavor, make it less…well, gross.

Nothing she’d tasted, though, had been as good as that human man’s.

“No payphone,” Zack said as he slammed the door shut. “But I did figure out where we are. Texas.”

She made a noncommittal sound but otherwise didn’t move.

“And we’re on a highway that leads directly to Los Angeles,” Zack went on. “So yeah, it looks like Wolfram and Hart is behind this. Not sure if their plan is to give a soul-dectomy or what.”

“Willow fortified your soul and Kelly’s,” Buffy said, her tone flat. “They can’t remove it.”

“Well, maybe not the old fashioned way, but I’m too skeptical to think that Willow’s brand of magic can’t be undone.” There was a pause. “Buffy, that guy’s going to be fine. You know that. I know that. So enough with the guilt trip.”

At that, she snorted and rolled her eyes. “Oh, well, thank you. I feel a lot better now.”

“You were half-starved and wounded. Accidents happen.”

“Accidents that nearly get a man killed?”

“Do you have any idea how much I’d give to have just _nearly_ killed everyone I killed last year?” he fired back. “He’ll be home tomorrow no worse for wear. Can’t say that about Fred, can we? Or Nikki? Or any of the countless faceless people I decided to slaughter for funsies.”

“That’s different,” Buffy snapped. “You didn’t have a soul. That wasn’t you.”

“Yeah, well, I got the memories, don’t I? That whole soul business is fucked up.” He shook his head. “I get to remember what it felt like to do it. How much I enjoyed it. How I _wanted_ to make it hurt. You can tell me that’s not me and maybe I get that on some level, but goddamn, I _felt_ it. Those thoughts and feelings were experienced by _me._ And sorry, you can’t understand that, so this whole it-wasn’t-you bullshit is… You don’t get it.”

Buffy turned her head to face him now, her temper flaring. “I can’t understand that.”

“No. Neither can Kelly. Or Spike. Hell, especially Spike. He doesn’t get it because he’s never had it. Not really.”

“Zack, I know our memories were screwy, but I _do_ have the memory of being soulless. You want to tell me that’s not real?”

“Yeah, I do, actually. Because your memory was planted. You saw and felt things that Wolfram and Hart wanted you to feel. It wasn’t real, whatever else it was. They called the shots and no, I’m not having this argument again.” He held up his hand. “There’s no point fighting about things that never happened, based on feelings that were given to you.”

Buffy glared at him for a moment, bolstered by the certainty that he was wrong. No matter what the last year had revealed, she remembered quite well what it had felt like to run around without a soul. How much she’d enjoyed it—how she’d gone for the hurt. But then, how could she know that the creature she’d called Porphyria was really what she’d become? Or that Spike’s soulful side, the one that had never really existed, would be anything like the man he’d called William?

All of that had been staged. And to that end, Zack was right. False memories aside, Buffy had no idea what she’d look like without a soul. And there was comfort in knowing that the lives she remembered taking had never existed in the first place. Zack didn’t have that.

“Sorry,” she said, somewhat begrudging. “You’re right.”

“What?”

“I said you’re right.”

“Wow. This is a big moment for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“My thinking is…if Wolfram and Hart want us—me, at least—in LA, then we shouldn’t be in LA.”

“I have to get back to Spike. He’s…” Well, she didn’t want to think about it—how he’d reacted, how worried he was, how close to the edge this might have pushed him. She was his tether, his soul and his conscience. But he’d also been here before—this was, after all, how they’d come together in the first place. They hadn’t been mates then, though.

“You’re worried about him falling off the wagon.”

“No,” she said, and it was the truth. Whatever else, she trusted him. “But he might get reckless and hurt someone accidentally.”

Zack released a long breath. “Yeah, and that’s why I hate the guy.”

Buffy’s eyebrows shot skyward. “Huh?”

“Soulless bastard and you know, just know, that he’s not going to rip someone apart because you’re gone.” He lifted his hands and huffed a small laugh. “I know it’s not fair, but I can’t help it. I resent the hell out of him for that. And he knows it.”

“That’s not Spike’s problem, though.”

“No, it’s not. But I think it’s one of the reasons therapy was a bust. Why he dragged me out of there. Not that Dr. Pinky was good, because he wasn’t, but group was.” Zack bowed his head and ran a hand through his hair. “What are the odds that Spike and Kel stayed in Natchez?”

“Slim to none,” Buffy admitted. “Spike might not know where to go, but he’d tear out of there like a crazy person once he realized what had happened.”

“So there’s not much point in going back there.” Zack nodded. “I think we need to get off of this road. If they want us in LA, we don’t go to LA. They might figure we’d double back for Natchez, so we shouldn’t go there, either. So…let’s head north.”

“North?”

“For now. They’d probably guess we’d go back to New York if not LA, but we don’t want to get too far from home or Natchez, but not stay too close, either.”

Buffy nibbled on her lower lip, trying to ignore the faint taste of blood that lingered there. “Kansas.”

“What?”

“Sam, the hunter, gave me his card before. It said Kansas.”

“You’re talking about the guy who tried to kill me?”

“He said if we ever needed help. Think this qualifies. And Wolfram and Hart don’t know about these hunters—”

“That we know of.”

“That we know of,” she conceded. “But even if they do know these guys, they don’t know that we’ve met. And I think Sam would help me. Not sure about Dean, but Sam seemed to get… Well, get us a bit more. He also knew Wright, which goes a long way in earning points in my book. I think he’d help me get back to Spike.”

“Didn’t he have a big crush on you? Getting you back to your husband might not be on his to-do list.”

Buffy smirked at that. “Maybe not, but I can be persuasive. And scary.”

“So Kansas?”

“Kansas. And we keep looking for a phone.” She wiggled. “If we can’t find one, we might have to steal one.”

Zack grinned. “That taste of petty theft back there do something for you?”

“I left them a note.” She had. The hardware store she’d robbed, following the incident where she’d nearly killed a man, had had a ton of useful things, spray paint aside. She’d scribbled something on a piece of receipt tape and left it by the cash register—instructions to bill Wright & Pryce for any inventory they were missing.

“That’s so freaking human of you. Not at all what Spike was going for on this trip.”

“Well, Spike can bite me.”

Zack’s grin became a smirk. “I’m sure he’d like that.”


	20. Chapter 20

It had been a long time, a bloody long time, since Harry had been in a situation where the only option was to fight his way out. But there were certain things one never forgot, and this was one of them.

Outnumbered though they were, they had a small advantage. No one had suspected that the Josh git would show up with a wizard—an Auror, no less, who had defeated the most powerful dark wizard of all time. So when he’d blasted into the hallway, the people who had been there, weapons drawn, had been woefully underprepared, but that wouldn’t remain the case for long.

_“Protego!”_ he said, casting the Shield Charm to cover the space at their backs. The floor around them was littered with stunned Muggles. “All right. With me.”

There was no way he’d get back into the elevator. Too easy to be cornered. He’d already tried Apparating out, but this place seemed to have the same anti-Apparation shields as Hogwarts. No telling what else they had in place.

“Where?” Sam asked, breathless.

“Stairs,” Harry said, then turned to Wes. “You’ve been here before. You can show us.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of the git beyond what he’d heard in that office, and he wasn’t keen on giving him too much allowance, no matter how contrite he seemed. Still, they didn’t have much in the way of options, so he’d let the Muggle take the lead. For now.

“This way,” Wes said, and broke off in a run toward a closed door.

They made it to the bottom floor without incident, which had every single one of Harry’s nerves on end. Nothing easy could be good—something was waiting for them in the lobby. The building had gone unnaturally quiet and seemed to have emptied.

“I don’t like this,” Sam stage-whispered.

“Nor I,” Wesley agreed.

“Shut up,” Sam snapped.

Harry felt a grin tug at his mouth but chased it back. He inched forward, his heart beginning to pound in his ears. And then, as he entered the lobby, he felt it. That familiar, awful unnatural cold, and with it, a looming sense of unending despair. It had been a long time, a damn long time, since he’d felt them, but time couldn’t erase the impact they left.

“Oh god,” Wesley moaned. “What have I done? What have I _done_?”

“I’m never going to see my son again,” Sam agreed, his voice thick. “Or Willow. She—”

“Shut up,” Harry snapped, then focused all his might on a picture of Ginny, their children, and the last Christmas they’d shared together. _“Expecto Patronum!”_

The brilliant silver stag burst from the end of his wand, chasing the cold away, and in the light it reflected, Harry saw them. A solid wall of Dementors, all of whom recoiled at the sight of the Patronus. He exhaled and began running again, trusting Sam and Wesley to keep up. They might not see the Dementors or understand why their morbid thoughts had suddenly lifted, but hopefully they’d feel the effects of the Patronus enough to follow.

The stag carved a path for them that the Dementors couldn’t close. As they neared the entrance, the noise of the building began kicking up again. Something behind them roared, a roar that sounded a bit too much like a vampire for Harry’s liking. He waved the other two men on ahead of him, then skidded to a halt, pointed his wand back at the space behind them, and shouted, “ _Incendio_!”

A wall of fire erupted from the ground, creating a line between them and the hordes that were following. Harry was running again. He’d have to grab both men and Apparate the second they were outside. Where, he had no idea, but they couldn’t trust the vehicle. He’d just have to force Wesley to take them to Rupert Giles. Or somewhere safe.

He hadn’t used the Imperius Curse since breaking into Gringotts, but he wasn’t above it now. Desperate times.

That’s what he told himself, at least, as he and the others spilled onto the darkened pavement of the parking lot. He snatched grabbed both their wrists, focused, and popped out of existence.

*~*~*

If Giles was a superhero, Rosalie decided his signature move would be removing his glasses to polish on the hem of whatever he was wearing. Today was a simple blue button up shirt. The exasperated sigh would also be part of the package. Possibly his action figure would have a button to press for sound effects and catchphrases.

He didn’t meet her eyes as he placed the glasses back upon his face. In fact, he’d said very little since arriving after Hunter’s call except muttering he did while holding her wrist. She was doing her best not to wig out, but after they tried to contact Wes and settled for the eldest paranormal expert in California, she was about ready to call her daddy and cry for help.

“Well, Gramps, you gonna start being useful?” Thank God Faith was here to say what she was too afraid to ask.

“Yes,” Giles huffed. “I am convinced we are in fact dealing with a cursed object. None of the minor incantations I attempted worked. I do know for a fact that Willow is upstate currently and should be able to work her magic.” He looked at Rosalie with a small smile of reassurance with his bad attempt at humor. She couldn’t even fake a smile.

“Do you have any ideas on its origin?” Hunter asked with a gesture toward the bracelet she was finding uglier by the second. “Or at least an indication as to what we’re dealing with?”

Giles shook his head. “I haven’t ever seen those stones arranged in a combination like that before. They could contain something as benign as a love spell which never was executed.”

“Or?” Faith grilled.

He gave the elder Slayer a dirty look before turning back to address Hunter. “Or we could be dealing with a more malignant type of curse.”

Hunter looked down and nodded. Rosalie looked to him in a hope he would look up and give her some reassurance. After several heavy seconds, she gave up and looked to Faith who could only manage to give her an uncomfortable shrug before also focusing her attention elsewhere.

“Am I going to die?”

There. She’d said it. She brought up the elephant in the room they all were avoiding. Terror filled her as she waited for an answer.

“No!” Hunter immediately replied. He looked at her finally and though he had a slightly wild look of panic in his eyes, she also saw he wasn’t bullshitting her with his response.

“Big Red’s a fucking mega-witch now. She’s got a wand and shitload of magic shit. Just give her a call and tell her to Apparate her ass over here now before whatever mojo’s in that drag-show reject starts.”

“Apparate?” Giles sounded bewildered and impressed.

“I read, fuck you very much,” Faith said while folding her arms in defiance.

Giles cleared his throat and reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell. “Yes, well, I’m sure I’m not the only one surprised by that.”

“Are you feeling okay?” Hunter asked Rosalie.

_Fuck no!_ “Well, I am kinda hungry.”

Giles paused from putting the phone to his ear. “An insatiable curse? Or a curse to feel starvation? Maybe you can’t eat.”

“Or maybe she didn’t eat lunch, jackass.”

Rosalie looked to her Watcher. “I like her answer better.” Panic flowed through her veins again as she pondered Giles’s options.

Hunter gave her a small hint of a smile as he took her hand. The one without the bracelet. “Let’s start with a cold cheeseburger, dove.”

She didn’t know why, but the simple touch relaxed her more than his calming words.

She was letting herself be led toward the kitchen when she heard Giles talking on the phone. She stopped and turned around, holding Hunter’s hand tighter as she strained to hear.

“No, I haven’t heard from your ‘baby daddy,’ yet.” A pause. “Yes, well I wasn’t the one who caused that problem. I didn’t send a bloody angel to your front room.” Another pause. “Don’t use that as an excuse.” And another pause. “Well, I don’t know where they are. They? You didn’t say _they_ before. Willow Rosenberg, if you sent that goddamned angel back here—” He stopped talking once more. “Harry Potter? Really?” He actually blushed. “Well, I’m just surprised that someone as important as Harry Potter would be driving to visit me.” Rosalie was about to lose her mind as he paused again. “Yes, I know he’s the governor of California, but Harry Potter… I understand he’s only coming for the nails.”

“I’m about to nail you with my fist,” Faith growled.

“Seriously, Giles!” Hunter snapped.

“Yes, Yes!” Giles cried. “Willow, I’m sending you a picture of a bracelet that’s attached to Rosalie. It once belonged to Wesley’s Fred, but apparently was never worn. It won’t unfasten and it has all the markings of a cursed object.” One more pause. “Well I’m at the Hyperion now so you can give them directions. Melody is home, but I instructed her to not open the door until my return.” He stopped briefly before giving a huff. “Well, I would have let them in if you had led with Harry Potter.”

“Focus, man!” Hunter growled. Rosalie gave his hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. She’d like to hurry this thing along.

“Okay,” Giles said. “Just let me know your thoughts as soon as possible.” He hung up the phone and quickly walked to Rosalie, grabbing her other hand and snapping a picture.

“Okay,” Faith said. “This is all good now. We got Strawberry Shortcake and Harry Potter.”

“Okay,” Hunter said with a sigh of relief. He turned and gave Rosalie a full smile. “We have two of the most powerful magical minds right here on standby. Willow likely has one of these in her wardrobe.”

Rosalie’s heart skipped a beat and she found herself grinning back at her Watcher. She knew if anyone could unlock this magical handcuff, it would be Willow. The stories Aunt Buffy and Aunt Kelly had told her was all the proof she needed.

The door burst open with a fury of movement and shouts. It didn’t take her any time to spot the face she was most longing to see. Wesley had to have the answers because he always did.

“Wait?” Faith said holding up a hand. “How did you find Harry Potter?”

“Oh goodness!” Giles said, straightening his shirt hastily.

Harry Potter, for his part, didn’t look impressed or even surprised to be identified. Actually, he looked pissed. That’s when Rosalie noticed that Harry Potter had what appeared to be a painful grasp on Wes’s arm.

“Hey!” she snapped. “Let him go!”

“Where is she?” Harry Potter growled.

“Please!” Wesley begged. “Let me talk to them first!”

“There’s no time for that.”

“Thanks to you!” Wesley cried before howling in pain as Harry Potter seemed to grasp him more violently.

_Oh, hell no._ “I said let him GO!” Rosalie roared.

Wesley looked up at Rosalie. She didn’t know how to describe the look he gave her other than wrong. “Rosalie!”

The third man spoke. “Rosalie?” He gave her a look before turning his gaze to Wes with disgust. “A child? You seriously did this to a child?”

Before Rosalie could protest, Faith spoke. “Wait, did you guys already talk to Willow? How fucking fast can witches dial? Giles just got off the phone like two seconds ago.”

“Willow?” the unknown man asked. “Does she know what happened?”

“She knows not to send bloody angels to my house,” Giles grumbled.

“Mr. Giles?” Harry Potter questioned. “I’m slightly confused on how you arrived here before we contacted Willow, but I’m most grateful. The sooner we deliver those nails, the sooner we can undo the curse.”

“If you haven’t talked to Red Hot, how did you know about a curse, Wesley?” There was an icy edge to Faith’s tone that sent a shiver down Rosalie’s spine. She was totally not keeping up with this conversation. Nick reminded her that they were still holding hands as he gave it shaky squeeze.

“Is Willow Red Hot?” the third man asked awkwardly.

“Yes, Wesley,” Giles inquired. “They couldn’t get you to answer your phone nor leave a voicemail. Did you know Fred’s bracelet was bewitched? Does that mean that there’s nothing to fuss about?”

“No,” Harry Potter answered. “It means Wesley is a vile Muggle who I will be turning over to the American Ministry of Magic as soon as this is fixed.”

“It was an accident!” Wes pleaded to Harry Potter before turning to Rosalie. “It was an accident!” he said before his eyes shifted to Faith. “Believe me!” A choked back a sob. “I never meant for this to happen. Not like this! Not this!”

“What did you do?” Faith demanded angrily.

Wesley burst into tears and Rosalie’s mind went numb. Wes didn’t have the answers. Wes was nothing but more questions. Wrong. Something was wrong. Wes was wrong. This was all wrong.

“He made a deal with the devil,” the mystery man explained. “Some law firm downtown that I’m pretty sure is a portal to Hell.”

“Wolfram and Hart,” she heard Giles say. Her eyes couldn’t pull away from watching her uncle sobbing uncontrollably. Other than he father, Wesley had been the main male figure in her life. When she was little, it had really been just her dad, Aunt Nikki and her. She’d met several hunters in passing, but none were a parental figure. Even Spike, while influential, hadn’t stuck around long enough for her to develop the deep familial bonds that she had with Wes. The Wes who had tucked her in on nights her dad was out. The Wes who had dried her tears the first time she’d cut herself on a machete. The Wes who had given her the bracelet and told her it was a special gift from Fred.

The Wes who had lied to her.

“Yes,” she heard Harry Potter replied. “In exchange for the murder of a vampire—“

“Zack?” Giles cut off. “Dear God, Wesley! Wolfram and Hart have Zack and Buffy! Did you kill them?”

“No,” Harry Potter said. “I followed that they are in transit. Part of the deal is he gets to kill the vampire himself.

“What about Rosalie?” She heard Nick’s voice. Felt his body shaking in her palm. “What did he do to Rosalie?”

“The bracelet,” Harry Potter said. “It’s supposed to take her power. Trap it for these dark wizards to utilize.”

She heard Faith. “So it zaps her Slayer juice? Turns her back into a pumpkin?”

“No,” Giles spoke barely above a whisper. “Her power isn’t bound to her soul. It’s tied to her…heart.”

“What do you mean?” Faith demanded.

“I mean…I mean that when one Slayer’s heart stops, the power transfers to the next in line. If this bracelet is meant to trap the next Slayer from being Chosen, it’s mean to…kill her.”

Rosalie’s body remained perfectly still as she felt Nick’s fingers slip from her grasp. Her eyes remained glued on Wes even as she saw Nick fly into eyesight and grab Wes by the neck. Her head numbly followed Wes’s body to the ground as she watched Nick jump on top of him and begin throwing one punch after another. His jaw. His chest. His eyes. His shoulder.

Rosalie stared blankly on as shouts and movement flurried around her.

This was all wrong.

*~*~*

For the first time since Natchez, Spike experienced a rush of relief. The phone call he’d received from Wright had been sparse on the details, but it had also been the only bloody lead he’d found. And now, standing here on the edge of the town square, he felt rooted in the certainty that he was on the right track.

Buffy had been here. Right here. Her scent was faint but still the stronger than it had been on the road. Zangy was here too. They were together.

Spike inhaled and reached for his cigarettes. The site had told him nearly all he could hope to learn—from the human blood on the pavement to the flecks of demon blood a few feet behind him. Nearest he could piece together, Buffy had bested their captors. He still wasn’t sure what sort of demon had been behind the plan—the blood he’d found hadn’t had a tangible scent—but from the way Buffy and Zack’s individual smells seemed to linger, they hadn’t been in a rush. Plus, the Slayer had made a trip to a hardware store and left a bloody IOU at the cash register.

It didn’t take much to suss out what they’d been after. He had their rings, after all.

And once he caught up with them, he’d make damn sure that Buffy was never without hers again.

“Where would you go, love?” he murmured, igniting his Zippo and lighting his fag.

_“I’d try to find a phone,”_ the Buffy in his head replied. _“But I don’t have any numbers memorized.”_

_So you’d call information, then._

_“Seriously? Who does that anymore? You’re showing your age, sweetie.”_

_How else are you going to get a hold of Wright, huh? Knick a mobile?_

_“I don’t steal things. You know that._ ”

_Even in desperate times?_

_“Not as desperate as I was before now, am I? I’m fed and we have wheels.”_

Yeah, and he could imagine the thorough arse-kicking she was giving herself over how it was she was fed. Buffy had never fed from a live person, to his knowledge—had always been afraid of losing control. From what Wright had told him, the news suggested that the bloke she’d torn into had only been saved because Zangy was there to pull her off.

Thank fuck for that. Buffy would never forgive herself if she’d drained a person.

_“I want to go home,_ ” the Buffy in his head said. _“I want to find you. But survey says these people who tried to vamp-nap me are probably LA-based and tied to a certain evil law firm. Going back there would be risky.”_

But so was staying on the road. And Buffy had never shied from a fight.

_“This is the kind of fight where reinforcements would be handy, don’t you think?”_

Right. So Big Red, for one. Maybe her whole merry band of magic-users from the school where she hung her hat.

_“I’m not driving to England, sweetie. Where else would I go if I didn’t know where was safe?”_

Spike tossed the remains of his cigarette to the ground, whirled around and stomped back to the car. The second he was behind the wheel, he plucked up the phone Wright had left him with.

“Those Winchester blokes,” he said by way of greeting. “Where’s it they’re from, again? Think that might be where the Slayer is headed.”

*~*~*

Faith didn’t realize she was moving until she had Hunter seized by the upper arm. She didn’t realize much of anything, too consumed by the storm of cold that threatened to take her legs out from under her. There was too much noise—screaming—and Rosalie was in trouble, but she had to get Hunter off of Wes before he knocked him unconscious. They needed their goddamned answers.

She needed to not feel this fucking cold.

_“Protego!”_ someone shouted, and Faith found herself thrust back a few feet, a shimmery white shield now between her and Wes. Hunter was fighting with her, growling incoherent nonsense and trying to push her aside so he could leap back into action.

“Not that I don’t understand,” Harry said with a tight nod in Hunter’s direction, “but we need this git conscious.”

Glad to know she was on the same wavelength as Harry fucking Potter.

“I quite agree,” Giles said coldly, stepping toward Wesley, who was now sprawled on the floor, panting. “Get up, you miserable piece of excrement. Stand the bloody hell up.”

For a long moment, there was nothing. Then Wesley lifted his head, tears tracking down his cheeks, and rose to his feet. He looked, Faith had to admit, just awful. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mess, and an impressive bruise was forming along his jaw.

“Why should we let you live?” Giles asked.

She’d never heard him speak so coldly. Faith relaxed her hold on Hunter, somewhat taken aback. While she knew Giles could be brutal when the situation warranted, seeing it was something else.

“Rupert, please—”

Giles recoiled at the familiarity and looked to Hunter. “Hit him again.”

Hunter tore away from Faith at last, seemingly emboldened.

“No, don’t bloody hit him,” Harry snapped, his wand still raised. “Least not until he tells us how to get that bracelet off the girl.” He paused. “And no killing him, either. We don’t do that.”

“I do when it’s necessary,” Giles replied, though when he realized to whom he was addressing, he looked somewhat abashed. “Mr. Potter.”

“I just want to go on record and say that it would be very, very bad if it got out I was a bystander at a homicide,” the other man said. “Not that I think there’s much left to salvage of my political career at this point.”

“You’re the governor,” Faith said bluntly, the windows in her mind aligning.

Sam Seaborn frowned at her, a dark pink staining his cheeks. “I… Ahh, yes, we might’ve met. Before.”

Right, when all the shit had been happening the last go-round, during Zack’s soulless days.

_Zack._

Faith refocused on Wesley, hating herself for the stab of pain that hit her in the chest. She didn’t know why she felt so betrayed—it wasn’t like a fool couldn’t have seen this coming. And maybe that was it—that she had been a fool. That for a while, a couple of days even, she’d let herself feel something. She’d gotten attached, she’d felt… Connected to him in ways she’d connected with no one. Faith understood loss and pain, knew what it was to see the worst in oneself and ache for the sweet release of death, and she also knew what it was like to claw your way back to solid ground. The last few years had been a testament to that—crawling back to a place where she didn’t hate herself, didn’t think the world would be better off without her. Didn’t resent every rotten breath she took because she’d denied some other sucker the right to the same.

Wesley had been hurt, she understood that. Hell, she could even forgive it. Wanting Zack Morris dead was not a crime—it just made him human.

But it was more than what he’d done or said. It was that he’d lied—he’d made her believe things. Made her think that maybe a screwed up kid from New England could salvage enough together to get her own slice of happy. Because Wes had always been a good guy—always. And if he saw something in her, then maybe all that self-destructive bullshit was well and behind her.

She glanced to Harry, whose wand was still pointed at the shimmer of light that kept Wesley from the rest of the group. “Hey, Scar-head. Wanna tell us what happened?”

Harry scowled at her but didn’t remark on the insult. Instead, he nodded at Sam. “We came here to see Rupert Giles about some nails.”

“Who’s we? And why is the governor involved in this?”

“Willow,” Sam said. “Willow and I… Well, we’re a thing. Kind of. We were. At one point. There’s a baby. It’s mine.”

Faith rolled her head back as Giles barked what sounded like a hysterical laugh.

“Something funny about that?” Sam asked, his eyes narrowing.

“The governor of the bloody state is standing in front of me with Harry Potter, telling me he’s the father of Willow Rosenberg’s child.” Giles giggled louder, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket to dab his eyes. “A-and a man I would have trusted with my life has just handed over the sacred slayer line to possibly the most evil institution in the world. Oh, and bloody angels keep popping into my flat.”

Hunter had returned to Rosalie’s side and steered her into his arms. The look he gave Giles said plainly that he didn’t find anything about this situation remotely funny.

“I had no idea that was what would happen,” Wesley said, tears skating down his cheeks. She wanted him to choke on them.

“So what is it you thought _would_ happen, then?” Nick snapped. “Rosalie’d go back to being a regular teenager and somehow everyone here would forget Zack Morris existed?”

“He killed Fred!”

“Yeah, he did,” Faith snapped. “He killed me too. I got over it.”

She hadn’t, really, but that was beside the point.

Wesley’s eyes hardened. “You’re standing here. She’s not.”

“You’re right, she’s not,” she replied. “’Cause vamps are fucking assholes when they don’t have souls. You’re a goddamned watcher, Wes—a _watcher_ who used to work for the most jacked-up souled vamp anyone in this room’s ever met. You’re tellin’ me you learned not one fucking thing about vamps and souls in ten years?”

“This is not about Angel.”

“No, it’s about you. You bein’ as much of a monster with a soul as Morris was without one.” Faith turned to Harry. “How’d you and the governor get in this mess?”

“We were with another bloke,” Harry said, glancing to Sam. “That Josh Lyman prat. Told us he knew Rupert.”

“We are acquainted,” Giles said, having regained control of himself.

“That wasn’t a lie then.” He blew out a breath. “He was supposed to take us straight to you. Get this business with the nails sorted so that the angel could help search for your friends. Or something, honestly, I lost the thread on that. He took us to that barmy lawyer office instead.”

Giles frowned. “Why?”

At that, Sam cleared his throat. “They apparently want me.”

“For what?”

“For president. They want me to run for president.”

“They want you in their pocket, you mean,” Faith said, looking to Giles for confirmation. He nodded, looking ancient in that moment. “Wolfram and Hart are lookin’ to expand their influence.”

Giles sighed. “Josh Lyman took you to Wolfram and Hart? He’s working with them?”

“Something was…wrong with Josh,” Sam said cautiously. “I still don’t know what—”

“I told you,” Harry intervened. “He was Imperiused.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“It’s one of the Unforgiveable Curses,” Giles explained. “Complete and utter control over another individual. If Josh was under the Imperius Curse, you can safely assume he is not acting of his own volition.”

Sam nodded, his expression distant. “Is it weird if that makes me feel a lot better about him than I have over the last few days?”

“Yes,” everyone answered.

“Particularly since it means that someone within the Santos administration could possibly be a dark wizard,” Giles added. “There is no telling when he might have become victim to the curse.”

Sam paled and looked at Harry. “That lawyer woman said he resisted coming between me and Willow. Everything that happened… I know Josh is fanatical about my political career, but he was never…like this. Can this Imperius thing last a long time?”

“Years,” Harry replied dully. “But someone would need to be near him to keep him under. You can fight it off eventually, but it takes a lot of work. I’ve never heard of a Muggle doing it, but they could. Imperius is not a one-and-done thing, if you aim for it to last.”

“So we know we’re talking months. Maybe longer. God, that’s terrifying.” Sam shook his head. “Donna should know too. There’s another baby involved now.”

Harry flicked his eyebrows. “One crisis at a time, how ’bout it?”

“We need Willow here,” Giles muttered, his attention now on Rosalie. “If anyone could work around that curse, it’s her.”

“Willow _and_ Hermione,” Harry said. “Both of them. I’ve never met a problem Hermione couldn’t solve.”

“Hermione Granger?”

“Granger-Weasley, but yes.” Harry glanced at Sam, and shrugged. “Sometimes those books are a bloody blessing, but tell no one I said it. They save me the trouble of needing to explain how brilliant Hermione is.”

“No,” Hunter and Faith said suddenly.

Harry blinked at them. “Well, they do, actually—”

“We don’t need Willow,” Faith said.

“Look, I’m good, but I’m not—”

“Excuse me, was everyone not paying attention when the governor of California said his best mate was under some wonky curse that made him evil?” Hunter snapped. “Wesley just sold Rosalie to Wolfram and Hart. Your friend’s their lackey. We have no idea who’s compromised.”

Harry snickered. “I’d know if Willow or Hermione were Imperiused.”

“And why are we supposed to believe you?” Faith asked.

Harry stared at her for a long moment. “Because I’m Harry Potter?”

“Yeah, well, in the words of Shania, that don’t impress me much.”

Giles turned to Faith, his expression grim. “We can’t shut out our allies now. We need Willow and…” He waved toward Harry, his cheeks going pink again, “Ms. Granger to undo the damage.”

“Look, I ain’t about to throw out the welcome mat just because you’re fangirling the wizards. And didn’t Willow go all black-eyed baddie the last time she was here?” Faith turned back to Sam. “She’s not exactly who I’d call stable.”

“We’re here to help her,” Harry replied hotly. “Hermione, Ron, and me.”

“All three of you are here?” Giles squeaked.

“And Rupert’s right—do you know any better way of helping save this girl’s life?”

Faith looked back to Wesley, who had been watching the exchange with interest, torn between grief and fear. And the thing that had settled in her belly before tightened then. She felt dirty all over, every place he’d touched her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever feel clean again.

“Got some ideas,” Faith said slowly. “But first, lower that wand.”

Harry studied her a long moment, the apprehension in his eyes clear. But then he did as she asked.

Faith stormed forward before Hunter could think to move and grabbed Wesley by the scruff of the neck.

“We’re gonna have a nice little chat,” she said, then began marching toward the stairs without waiting for a response, punctuated by the grunts Wesley made as he struggled against her hold, his feet dragging along the floor.

*~*~*

“Good news,” Sam said, gripping the small Winnebago table for dear life as Dean took another one of his wild turns. He gritted his teeth and flashed Kelly an apologetic smile as the boat of a vehicle righted itself again. “That was Wright. Looks like we’ll meet up with them in about a half hour.”

Some of the tension in Kelly’s face melted away. “Has he heard anything?”

“Spike apparently confirmed that the news article Dean saw was Buffy and your husband.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, that they’re not prisoners anymore, for one. I’m not sure how Spike worked that out, but he’s convinced that Buffy and Zack are on their own now.”

Kelly visibly relaxed, offering what might have been the first smile he could recall seeing on her. “Thank god,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “Thank god. Buffy will know what to do.”

“He thinks they might be headed to Kansas.”

She frowned, her previous relaxation melting. “Kansas?”

“Yeah. Specifically, to see us.”

“Umm, no offense, but why?”

“I’m a little vague on that, myself, to be honest,” Sam replied. “Except Spike thinks, and Wright agrees with him, that some big evil law firm is behind all this.”

“Wolfram and Hart.”

“Yeah…so that’s a real thing?”

“They’re the reason Zack lost his soul last year.”

“So I should probably skip the lawyer jokes.” Sam offered what he hoped was a disarming smile, but it fell flat. “I’m not sure how he worked this out, but I guess Spike thinks that Buffy would go somewhere safe to regroup. She knows LA isn’t safe and she isn’t sure what’s waiting for her there, so she might head to Kansas.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We just met you guys.”

Yeah, they had. Sam would try not to preen too much over the idea that Buffy the Vampire Slayer™ apparently thought enough of him and Dean to consider them trustworthy allies. Though it probably didn’t hurt that they had a friend in common.

“I imagine they just need a place to stop running for a moment so they can acclimate,” Sam said. “They’re on the road, from what we can piece together, and they don’t know what they don’t know. They want to get to you and Spike, but they don’t know how, so they take what they do know and work back from there. Once they’re somewhere they don’t have to look over their shoulder, they can work on coming up with a plan.”

“I’m either very tired or that actually made sense.”

Sam offered a slight smile, then raised his phone again. “I better check in with Cas. See if he’s heard anything about the nails. It’d be nice to cross at least one thing off our list.”

*~*~*

Faith didn’t know where she was going until she was over the threshold of the room where, just a few hours ago, she and Wes had fucked like rabbits. The air still faintly smelled of sex, and it made her stomach rebel.

No time to bullshit. She’d get right to the motherfucking point.

“How do I get it off?” she asked after shoving Wesley to the mattress.

“Faith—”

“No. I’m done. I played the good cop with you—I fucking _fought_ for you to stay here, to be given a chance, when it would’ve been easier to toss you out on your ass. People felt sorry for you. I might notta known Fred, but these people did. They loved her too. Lost her too. And they can’t fucking mourn her because you had to make her death all about Wesley.”

A manic gleam shoved aside the fear and sorrow in his eyes. “How dare you!”

Faith snorted. “How dare I? How fucking dare _you_ , Wes! How dare you shit on Fred’s memory by betraying the people she loved? Even if this woulda worked out the way you thought, you think she woulda been okay with you killing a man because he looks like someone else? Taking him away from two children who still sure-as-fuck need their father? You’re not avenging her—you’re avenging your own goddamned selfish self. Fred would run from who you’ve become.”

“You didn’t know her!” he screamed, his voice raw.

“You’re right. I didn’t. But from what I’ve learned of her, I’m starting to think you never did, either.” Faith prowled forward until she was standing just a few inches away, her arms crossed and her legs shoulder-width apart. “There’s a way to get that bracelet off of Littles, isn’t there?”

Wesley glared at her for a heated moment before the weight of what he’d done seemed to crash around him again, and his face crumbled once more into a mask of tears. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “There’s a way. But it’s impossible.”

“Tell me.”

“It can only be removed by someone who knows what it does—who is willing to…” His eyes widened and he looked at her with new wonder. “Who is willing to die in her place.”

From the way she didn’t recoil, from the absence of second thoughts, Faith figured some part of her had suspected this. Rather, she hardened with resolve, swallowed, and nodded. “All right then,” she said, and turned back for the door.

“Faith, it’ll kill you—”

“Can’t kill me. I’m already dead. You’re just finishing the job Zack started.”

She was out the door, then, and down the hallway.

“Oh,” she called over her shoulder, “and if you leave that room, the last thing I do before I kick the bucket is gonna be to make sure you kick it first.”

Wesley didn’t respond; he didn’t need to. She knew he knew that she meant it.

The role she had to play downstairs was clear—so clear, in fact, that she was a bit surprised she wasn’t more nervous. The second she was within view of the lobby, a sea of anxious faces turned her way, questions reflecting in each of their eyes.

“Potter,” she said, fixing her own gaze on Rosalie, a sense of peace and acceptance chasing away her nerves, “can you do some mojo to keep Wes in the room?”

“Offhand, I could do the Caterwauling Charm. It’ll act like an alarm if he sets foot anywhere outside the room.”

“Good. Be a good wizard and do that, will you?” Faith reached the bottom step and nodded toward the office. “Rosalie, I need a minute. Alone,” she added, when Nick made to follow.

Hunter scowled. “Faith, she’s my bloody slayer. Whatever you need to say—”

“No, it’s okay,” Rosalie said, sniffing hard and pulling away from him. “I…I want just Faith.”

A swell of love slammed into her so potently she thought she might start bawling like a baby and give the game away. But Faith was nothing if not skilled at masking her emotions. She led Rosalie into the office where, just a handful of hours ago, the girl’s father had told her to watch out for them. For Wesley. At the time—though she’d understood where the fear came from—she’d thought he was being paranoid, but maybe Cordy had rubbed off on him. Or maybe he had a touch of what Rosalie had always had, too.

Faith shut the door behind her and drew in a steady breath.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Rosalie said hoarsely. “Really bad.”

“It ain’t good, kid.” Faith gave herself another moment, then inhaled and whirled around. “You know I love you, right?”

“Oh god, it’s _really_ bad.”

She cracked a small grin. “Just tell me you know.”

The fear in Rosalie’s eyes began to fade, confusion taking its place. “Of course I know that.”

“Good. Remember that when you wake up. That’s why.”

“Why what?”

It had been a long time since Faith had cold-cocked a slayer—so long it felt like it had been someone else. And hell, maybe it had. The girl who had fought Buffy in Sunnydale so many years ago was not the same girl standing here. She’d meant to kill B that night, had hoped to, wanted to, and she hadn’t held back. These last few months, sparring with Rosalie, she _had_ held back. The kid was wicked strong, sure, but young and largely unpracticed. If Faith had unleashed on her during training, Rosalie would have spent more time nursing concussions than learning anything of value.

Maybe that was why she didn’t see the blow coming. Why even as she fell against the desk, the concern on her face didn’t give way to surprise. Rosalie crumbled to the floor without ceremony, out like the proverbial light.

Faith hunched over and tugged at the bracelet. It opened without question, sliding with awful ease off Rosalie’s wrist. And for a second, she thought about just chucking the thing—seeing how well the curse would play out. The metal burned against her palm as though in warning, killing the thought before it could fully mature.

No chances. Not with Rosalie.

Faith slid the bracelet over her own wrist and snapped it closed.

“Hunter!”

He must have been hovering for as quickly as he crashed the door open.

“What the bloody… What did you do?”

Faith whirled around and held up her wrist, waiting for him to pull his gaze off his unconscious slayer to meet hers. And when he did, when recognition and understanding flashed between them, that terrible urge to cry surfaced once more. She wasn’t able to fight back all the tears this time.

“Faith,” Nick said after a moment, his voice a mixture of horror and shock and grief. “You can’t.”

“Too late. I did.” She lowered her arm with a watery smile. “Save the slayer line, sure. Save the girl, definitely.” A pause. “I don’t care what any of them say out there, Nick. Evil lawyers aren’t gonna stop coming for her. Get her and get the fuck outta Dodge. Do whatever you have to. Tell no one what happened here—let them think she’s still it, okay? Definitely don’t tell no one where you are or where you’re going. Keep her alive.”

Nick nodded, tears sparkling in his eyes. “What about you?”

“I’ll keep ’em chasing their tails as long as I can.”

“Faith, I—”

She threw her arms around him before he could say it. “Love you, too, Nicky,” she whispered against his ear. “You keep her alive.”

And, without allowing herself another word, Faith shoved past him and back into the lobby before sneaking her way out the back.


	21. Chapter 21

Sam looked around the room in a state of total shock and disbelief. Every time he thought his life couldn’t get any more surreal, God threw another blast of crazy his direction. If he made it through this latest episode of the apocalypse, he was either going to run for president or run straight to the closest psychiatric facility.

The chaos had quieted down as it was only himself and the man now known as Giles standing in the empty foyer of the Hyperion. The other man looked just as shell shocked as Sam felt.

Giles. Willow. The gears of Sam’s mind were finally starting to move once again. Willow, who he desperately needed to talk to, had sent him on a mission. He just wasn’t sure which crisis ranked higher in the scale of importance at the moment.

“Uhhh…” Sam said awkwardly as he reached in his pocket for his cellphone. “It feels like a few lifetimes ago, but I believe you had some holy nails Willow needed to borrow.”

At first, Sam wasn’t sure Giles had heard him. After a couple seconds of silence, the older man looked at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “What?” he’d responded just as they both heard someone shout from the other room.

“The nails, Mr. Giles?” Sam was fumbling through the screens on his phone to get to Willow’s number. “I know saving the child is more consequential at the moment, but it’s also completely out of my league.”

“Yes,” Giles replied quickly, seeming to come back to his senses. He reached in his back pocket and produced a velvet drawstring pouch. Walking to Sam, he thrust the item into the man’s free hand. “Yes, call Willow. We must remove that bracelet at once.”

As Giles quickly turned and left the room, Sam hit the button for Willow on his phone, pausing briefly to note the fact he was holding an object touched by the son of God.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Well, now he and Willow were both going to be smited.

“Let me start with the good news.” The politician in his blood came forward. “Harry and I are okay and I’m holding the nails in my hand.”

Her sigh hit his eardrums. “Good.” She paused briefly before speaking again with none of the prior relief. “Is that all my good news?”

His sigh was nowhere near as pleasant as hers had been. “Willow, you need to get here. Some evil law firm has done some really evil things. There’s this girl who was given a cursed bracelet—“

“I know. I’m looking at a picture right now, but I can’t figure it out. Ron was going to grab Hermione for me so I could get some help.”

“It’s killing her.”

“What?”

“Yeah, something about stealing her slasher power and stopping her heart.”

“Oh. My. God.” Willow was quiet for a moment. “Slayer.”

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “It will slay her. Or murder her. Whatever you want to call it. But there’s more, Willow.”

“I don’t want more right now, Sam.”

“Tough. This same law firm has Josh.”

“They kidnapped Josh?”

“Not exactly. Harry said something about an unforgivable curse that makes someone completely under their control.”

“No,” she said in disbelief. “Who? Why?”

“I think me.”

“Sam, you can’t accidentally invoke the Imperius Curse.”

“What? No!” He shook his head in frustration. “They are after me, Willow. They somehow took control of him last year. After we…you know…procreated.”

“Wolfram and Hart have you on their radar?”

“And they used Josh to keep us apart so that I would have an easier time getting elected. They were about to wipe you from my memory and make me drink a love potion before Harry got us out of there.”

“A love potion?”

“How do you keep missing the points?”

“I got all the points,” she snapped. “Where are you and what about the love potion?”

“Apparently they decided that I looked better with Ainsley than with you. They’ve gave her one dose and we’re going to give me the other. And we’re at an abandoned hotel where this girl and Giles were both at.”

“We look damn good together!”

“Well, I obviously think so because I couldn’t make myself have sex with another woman for the last nine months. And believe me, Josh tried setting me up with half the Democratic Caucus of California. But I think they don’t want you to be my First Lady in the White House.”

There was a loud crack through the speaker of the phone and the line went dead. Sam stood in silent confusion before the front door he had used before burst open.

“I would be the best First Lady in history of America, goddammit!”

Sam blinked in shock. He looked at the phone he was still holding in his hand before looking up at raging redhead standing before him. The air crackled and he could see small sparks of electricity sparking around her. “Well, with your vote, we can make that happen.”

*~*~*

Nick looked lamely down at his unconscious slayer. Emotions swam through his head and his brain was trying to process what to do next. If there was a knock, he didn’t hear it. When he heard the door open, he turned expecting to see Faith.

“Oh dear God!” Giles expelled.

“Bloody hell!” Nick exclaimed when he realized he’d already ruined the plan.

“Is she…” Giles couldn’t finish.

Understanding hit Nick in the head. “No. I honestly think Faith knocked her out.”

“Wait. Why?”

Nick felt tears sting his eyes. “Faith got the bracelet off.”

“Brilliant!” Giles beamed.

Nick shook his head. “She…she had to…she put it on, Giles.”

The color drained from the elder Watcher’s face. “Oh no.”

Nick shook his head again, trying to will the tears streaming down his face to subside. “We have to get Rosalie away from here. _I_ have to get Rosalie away from everyone. Including you. If Wolfram and Hart have dark wizards and are using Unforgivable Curses, nobody can be trusted. Fuck, Giles, I don’t know if this has spread to the Council. Nobody informed me Wolfram and Hart was even a threat to Rosalie and God knows how long this plan has been in the works!”

He expected a fight. A protest. Something. Instead Giles gave him a firm nod. “Yes. At this point we must get the active Slayer as far removed from their manipulation as possible. Zack and Buffy were a distraction to get Rosalie as vulnerable as possible before their strike. And if any wizard is willing to resort to one Unforgivable Curse, they will be willing to use any and all.”

He had known all that already but something about hearing it said aloud by someone as authoritative as Giles made terror take his mind over. “I don’t know what to do!”

Giles nodded and stepped forward. “You need a protection spell. Something to make you completely untraceable. A powerful one that can only be broken by those under its protection.”

“Can you do that?”

“I believe so,” Giles said as he removed his glasses and placed them on Zack’s desk. “It’s more difficult than a normal protection spell because even I will be unable to break it. That way if I am cursed or someone or someone’s father wishes to physically intimidate me, I will be unable to waver. No amount of magic reverses the effects.”

Relief took hold of Nick and he released a shuddering sigh. “Do we need ingredients?”

“No,” Giles grabbed his glasses and placed them back on. He then grabbed his phone.

“Giles, no!” Nick snapped. “We can’t involve Willow or anyone else! Wolfram and Hart infiltrated her group already.”

“Quite right,” Giles said calmly as he kept scrolling through his phone. “Though I am relatively certain she is not corrupted by the dark arts, she sent a buggering angel to my front step earlier today, so I certainly do not trust her judgment at the moment.”

Any other time, Nick would have had to ask a follow up.

“I keep my spell books on my Kindle app,” Giles continued staring at his phone screen. “Yes, here we are. I’ll need hair from you both.”

Nick quickly gathered the request before closing his eyes to silently pray while Giles began reciting the spell. The realization that he was completely unconcerned for his slayer at the moment hit him like a freight-train. He didn’t care about protecting the slayer line like Giles had expressed before agreeing to help. The man, Nick, was desperately trying to save the woman, Rosalie, from harm. The woman he realized right then was more important to him than the sacred duty of Watcher’s job to protect the chosen line at any cost.

As a small wave of electric energy washed over him, he made note of the fact that once this was all over, he needed to tell Rosalie the truth. He would thereafter do the honorable act of resigning. Much like Giles, he had to accept the fact that he was too much in love with the girl to be an impartial advisor.

“Okay,” Giles said, causing Nick to open his eyes. “That should do. Now, take my car. There’s just a few weapons and supplies in the trunk. We took some out to transfer Kelly’s mobile to the house.”

Nick nodded, taking the keys Giles offered with his bruised and bloody hand.

“The vehicle has already been made untraceable,” Giles elaborated. “Bloody Onstar asking if I needed medical attention simply because I was out at three in the morning. It’s nobody’s business who eats what and when. Big brother my perfectly shaped arse.”

Again, Nick so wanted to follow up. This time with a sarcastic remark in lieu of a question. Unfortunately, time was of the upmost importance. “Thank you, Giles. I mean it.”

“I know you do.” The man gave Nick a knowing stare, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. “Just remember what we’re doing this for. Rosalie is the active Slayer. We can’t let that power be harnessed by Wolfram and Hart, no matter what may come.”

Nick turned away and scooped Rosalie off the floor and into his arms. Fuck the world if anything happened to Rosalie Wright.

Not on his watch.

*~*~*

“Sam.”

“Hey, Cas.” Sam never got used to the blunt and expressionless way the angel answered the phone. Never a simple, friendly hello.

“Do you need rescuing again?”

“No,” Sam said with a humorless chuckle. “But thanks.”

“The vampire woman isn’t beating you or threatening Dean?”

“No, Cas. We’re fine. Kelly’s fine. Everything is just fine.”

“Good, because I am awaiting word from Harry Potter on the status of the holy relic.”

“Yeah…uhh what did you just say?”

Castiel released a dramatic sigh into the phone speaker. “Good, because I am awaiting word from Harry Potter on the status of the holy relic.”

“Dude, did you say Harry Potter?”

“Yes, Sam. Please keep up.”

Sam now laughed for real. “Cas, I believe Wright’s witch friend was messing with you.”

“No, he and the governor of California left to drive to Los Angeles to contact Rupert Giles, the possessor of the nails. He has a large attraction to occult objects and a large aversion to angels after an unfortunate run in with Gabriel.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes. He would not go into detail, but the excessive use of profanity followed by the magic and physical violence he dealt while removing and warding me from his property would clearly suggest Gabriel. Or Lucifer.” He paused. “Either one is understandable.”

“Right,” Sam said skeptically. He pulled his mouth from the receiver and turned to his brother. “Dean, I think it’s your turn to explain to him the difference in real and make believe. I did it last time.”

“Technically you were wrong,” Dean replied as he kept his eyes on the road. “That actually was a tooth fairy.”

“It was not a tooth fairy!” Sam cried. “A demon that steals teeth isn’t automatically a fairy.”

“It was a tooth fairy,” Cas defended from the other end of the phone.

“That thing wore a fucking dress, Sammy. It was either a tooth fairy or a tooth drag queen. Either way, nose goes.”

Sam sighed. Just like usual. “Cas, we are about to meet up with Wright and get the car back and then we can help you. Though I’m going to let Wright know we didn’t appreciate his friends punking you.”

“I watched that show with Dean and I was not punked. I was assured by Harry Potter and the governor of California, Samuel Seaborn, that they would call when they retrieved the nails. Side note, the governor apparently has a secret love child with a professor from Hogwarts. I wasn’t particularly interested, but I remember that Dean had expressed interest in the French witch from the movies, so let him know.”

“Sure, Cas.” He rolled his eyes. “Hey, Dean. No need to rush. Harry Potter and the governor of California are helping Cas out and getting those nails we were looking for.”

“Wait!” Dean said in excitement. “Harry Potter’s real? I’m way more excited about that than Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Unless Harry Potter is a vampire now too.”

“Seriously Dean?” Sam was so disappointed.

“Shit!” Dean said with a snap of his fingers. “Did he meet the hot chick? The French girl? Fleur Delacour.” He said the last part in a terrible French accent.

“No, I did not,” Castiel responded to Dean.

Sam was growing frustrated with the both of them. “Kelly, please tell these guys that Harry Potter and the governor of California wouldn’t be teaming up in some magical A-Team.”

“Cas!” Dean shouted. “Do not tell me you met the Terminator!” He lowered his voice. “I’m fucking jealous now.”

“Well,” Kelly said hesitantly. “Schwarzenegger isn’t the governor anymore. Sam Seaborn was re-elected last time.”

“Not as jealous anymore,” Dean acknowledged.

“But as for Harry Potter and Hogwarts…” Kelly continued. “Been there and done that.”

“You’re shitting me,” Sam said to the vampire.

She merely shrugged and smiled. “That’s where Zack was turned.”

“That’s it!” Dean said with a slap of the wheel. “When this little crisis is done and over, Sammy and I are taking a trip out west. We’re cracking a few beers and having a good ole fashioned hunter party. Get drunk off our asses and trade some stories. Heaven, hell, and Hogwarts.”

“We’re not but a half day’s ride from you, Cas,” Sam told the angel on the phone. “Though we may be slower because we are gonna still try and tail Buffy and Zack. Signs point to they escaped, but may still be trying to hide out. They know we’re living in Kansas so they may be trying to get in contact. Keep you eyes out if you go out and about, okay?”

“Of course.”

Dean honked the horn of the Winnebago. “There’s my girl!” he shouted in jubilation as he spotted the Impala parked in a gas station lot.

“Hey, Cas? We’ll call you back when we have more news.”

Sam didn’t even wait for a response before ending the call. Almost as much as Dean, he was ready to get back on the road in their Baby. “All right, let’s go,” Sam said, standing up as soon as his brother parked the RV and killed the ignition.

The boys had just stepped out onto the broken cement lot when they heard Wright fire up the engine.

“What the—” Before Dean could finish, Wright pulled it into reverse so fast and hard he almost hit the pumps behind him. “Hell!” Dean exclaimed when Wright shifted into drive making a sharp turn of the wheel and squealing out onto the road.

Back to the west. Toward California.

“SON OF A BITCH!!” Dean bellowed.

Sam’s phone rang. He saw Wright’s number on the screen. “This wasn’t the deal, dude,” Sam said upon answering.

“My daughter!” Wright shouted into the phone.

“Rosalie?” Sam asked, immediately on edge by the emotion he heard in the other man’s voice. Zack was breathing heavily and the classic signs of a person in danger rang like bell in Sam’s head.

“My partner fucking tricked her into putting on this fucking bracelet that could kill her at any fucking moment!”

“Oh my God,” he said slowly, putting his hand up to cease Dean from his current cursing rampage.

“Sam,” Wright’s voice was shaking with a fear he’d certainly never heard and would gamble Wright had never shone more than a couple times in his life. “I have to get there and stop it. I have to get there before…”

Neither man needed that sentence to be completed. “Gotcha. Kelly can give us directions. We’re right behind you.” With that, the line went dead.

“What the actual fuck?” Dean snarled.

Sam shook his head. “His partner attacked his daughter by putting this cursed bracelet thing on her that’s going to kill her if they can’t get it off.”

Sam knew there was close to nothing in this world that meant more to his brother than that 1967 Chevy Impala. But he also knew there was nothing more important to Dean than family.

Dean growled as he turned and marched back up the steps to the Winnebago. He already had the engine fired up and gear by the time Sam made his way inside.

Dean whipped the vehicle out on to the road, following in Wright’s wake. “Okay, Kelly. First get us to Wright’s girl. Second, point out the son of a bitch we’re about to gank.”

*~*~*

There were a handful of numbers she’d forced herself to memorize, both because she was old school and because one never knew when they were going to be without a cell phone. Such had been the era of Faith’s teenage years. Hell, she hadn’t even been able to afford a damn thing. Plus she’d been mighty fucked up at the time. But the past year or so had given her stability and belonging that all the years before it had denied.

It was five. Five numbers she’d memorized. Mayor Richard Wilkins, even though it was long disconnected. Wright and Pryce, for practical reasons. Then Hunter’s, Wright’s, and Rosalie’s private lines.

Faith specifically wanted a payphone for this call. Wright wasn’t in the habit of answering his cell if he didn’t recognize the number and he never gave his personal line to clients. So she wouldn’t actually have to listen to his response.

She fed the machine a dollar in quarters, then pounded out the number. Sure, she wasn’t clear on what she’d say, but she’d never been a script kind of girl anyway.

The message played. The beep sounded. It was all on her.

“Hey. Uhh, this is Faith.” She glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist. “I’m gonna trust that Nick did what I told him to, ’cause that boy is nuts for her. He’s a good guy, Zack. I might not know what it’s like to squirt out a brat, but I love that girl like she’s blood. If I didn’t think he’d do right by her, I’d crack his skull. I hope you know that. All this to say…I did what you asked, but not because you asked. Also didn’t do it to save the slayer line, but if Giles wants to put that on my tombstone, I don’t mind taking the glory. Look, I know I wasn’t the best houseguest. I’d never stayed so long in one place, but it was nice. Playing house with Rosalie and pretendin’ like I had things to teach her. You let me do that, let me feel like a real person. So thanks for that, and sorry for all those times I busted your balls. Except the first time, ’cause that was one hell of a weekend. And I was about Rosalie’s age at the time, so keep that in mind for when she and Nick start knockin’ boots. He’s a better guy than you were then, and he actually cares about her.” Faith barked a laugh, the backs of her eyes stinging. “I can’t even do this part right. Last thing, though… Wes told me he didn’t know what it would do and fucked up as everything is, I do believe that. I’m not saying go easy on him because what he did is unfuckingforgivable, but I did unforgivable things too once. And now I’m being all noble and shit. Just think before you kill him. Trust me, that’s one bridge you can’t ever uncross, and no amount of good deeds makes you forget it.” She winced and shook her head, then pounded the receiver against her brow a few times before placing it at her ear again. “That’s it. Try not to get yourself killed, okay? She’s never gonna not need her daddy.”

Faith hung up before she could ramble any further, hesitated, then picked up the phone again and fed the machine more quarters. Truly, she hadn’t intended to do this, but now that she was here, and knowing it was the last chance she’d get, she couldn’t quite stop herself. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed when this call went to voicemail too. It was probably better that it did. She imagined Rosalie would be mighty pissed when she woke up.

“Hey Littles,” she said after the tone sounded. “First off, I’m sorry for the way your head feels right now. But if you train really hard and do everything Nicky tells you, maybe you’ll be strong enough to punch a slayer’s lights out one day, too. Though, seein’ as it’s gonna be down to you and B, I don’t advise it. She cheated and leveled up, so she’d probably own your ass.” She let out a low breath. “I imagine you’re pretty mad at me right now. I get it. I’d be pissed at me, too. But kid, I ain’t even a little sorry. Truth is I shoulda cashed out a long time ago. Cheated it once with Buff, then again with your uncle. I’ve lived longer than most slayers, and had more fun than all their sorry asses combined. And I get to go out on top. All in all, it’s pretty fucking fantastic to be me.” A pause. “Do me a favor, Ro, and have a good life. Thanks in no small part to you, mine was five by five.”

She hung up before she could say more, then turned and started down the sidewalk, the bracelet chaffing her skin. Waiting for the thing to go off was its own kind of torture—her mind overran with questions, her heart leaping every time it so much as slid down her wrist.

Would she know when it was happening? Would it hurt? Or would she just be here one moment and out the next?

Faith directed her gaze to the night sky, then pointed her feet toward the nearest cemetery.

Part of a slayer’s life was knowing that death would come sooner rather than later. Faith had always been okay with that, mostly because she hadn’t planned on dying. But if she was to go out, it wouldn’t be sitting around waiting for it. She’d do what she’d been called to do, and dust as many motherfuckers as she could on her way out.

Use this power while she could still call it hers. Because there was no telling what Wolfram and Hart would do with it after she was gone.


	22. Chapter 22

“Caterwauling Charm is set,” Harry announced as he came down the stairs. “That git tries to leave the room and we’ll all know really…” He paused at the bottom, meeting Willow’s gaze. “Will? What are you doing here?”

Willow tore from Sam’s side and started toward her friend. “Caterwauling Charm?”

“Yeah. The scary bird said we needed to keep him in that room.”

“Which scary bird?”

“Faith,” Sam said from behind her. “I think that was her name.”

“Yes, that was her name, and who the bloody hell cares?” Harry demanded, pocketing his wand. “What are you doing here? Where’s Ron and Hermione? Where’s your _son_?”

“With Ron and Hermione,” Willow replied. “Sam called and I…well, Apparated.”

Harry goggled at her. “Apparated? Just how far is it you can Apparate, then?”

“I’m a hybrid witch. You tell me I can’t Apparate more than a few kilometers and I’m determined to show you that yes, in fact, I can.”

“But halfway across the bloody state?”

“Kilometers?” Sam echoed. “First of all, if you’re going to be any kind of First Lady, we need to get you off the metric system.”

“Of course,” Harry replied, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t want to be on par with the rest of the world, now would we?”

“Oh, shove it up your broomstick.”

Willow whirled around, wide-eyed. “Sam!”

He threw his hands up. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please don’t turn me into a toadstool. I’m just very tired and cranky and my best friend has been brainwashed by evil lawyer wizards and this was so not how I thought my trip to spend time with my son would go.”

Willow nibbled on her lower lip and rubbed Sam’s arm. The past two days had been a rollercoaster of blah, from her annoyance with herself at how carelessly she’d handled Donna’s secret to…well, reevaluating all of the reasons she and Sam wouldn’t work. Because no matter what he’d said earlier, there were certain things in her past, present, and future that made her a rotten candidate for First Lady. For starters, she worked with Harry Potter, someone everyone thought was the brainchild of an author with Rita Skeeter aspirations.

But if what Sam had said about Josh was right, and he was under the Imperius Curse, then his life had suddenly become the sort of complicated that made him a natural fit into her world. Wolfram and Hart being involved, wanting Sam in the White House, meant that her plan to return to Hogwarts in a few weeks was likely on indefinite hiatus. And there were a lot of feelings to go along with that too, because she liked her life and her job and her friends and her adopted country and her metric system and dammit, she’d never thought she’d be the kind of girl to give up something for a man.

But Sam wasn’t just any man. He was Sam. A guy she’d once thought she could possibly be with for the long-term. The father of her child. Someone she’d thought she’d loved once and maybe still did.

He met her eyes and gave her a soft, lost smile.

Okay, more than maybe.

“Willow,” Harry said, snapping her back to the present. “Did you hear me?”

She shook her head. “Sorry. Everything just kind of…went kablooey in my head.”

“I asked about Ron and Hermione. Are they coming?”

Willow made a face. “I don’t suppose you have an owl I can send them, do you? Donna still doesn’t know this stuff with Josh, and by the way, what the hell?”

“Don’t,” Harry replied. “I very nearly broke the International Statute of Secrecy getting us out of that place in one piece. Without a team of Aurors or Ginny there to hex everything in sight, I couldn’t try to take him along. He wouldn’t have made it. Not alive, and not while I was trying to protect two Muggles, one of whom is the bloody governor.”

Willow nodded. She understood, she did, but the only thing worse than telling Donna that Josh was under a very bad curse was telling Donna that Josh was under a very bad curse and currently with the people who had cursed him.

“Will Josh be okay?” Sam asked, his voice thick. “When we do get him back?”

Willow and Harry exchanged a look. “We’ll need to figure out how much of the past year has been Josh and how much hasn’t,” she said. “And also see if we can find the caster. And what other things Wolfram and Hart might’ve had him doing while he was under their control.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry, I still can’t believe that. There were times, many of them, over this past year where Josh seemed like…well, Josh. He was genuinely horrified when he realized you were pregnant and had kept us apart.”

“That’s how the curse works,” Harry said softly. “When it’s well done, at least. It can be fought off—I learned how to in my fourth year, but that’s only because a Death Eater taught me how.”

“Huh?”

“It feels good, is the problem,” Harry went on. “Your brain clears and it’s nice to not have all these worries—just a voice telling you what to do and what all.”

“I don’t think Josh’s brain has ever been clear, ever,” Sam muttered.

“Right. And he’s not a nobody, is he? He works for the government. If he started acting off his rocker, they’d cart him off or send him packing. They needed it to look real.” Harry took a breath. “For it to work in the long-term, I think it’d have to be small nudges here and there. Keep him under the curse, acting normally, but using the curse to direct him as the lawyers needed when something came up. So yeah, he seemed horrified when he learned about the baby, because he _was_ horrified. That part was your friend, responding and trying to understand this other part.”

Sam nodded, then frowned. “You still didn’t answer my question. Will he be okay?”

“When Voldemort was in power, loads of people were Imperiused and went back to their normal lives after,” Harry said. “Bit of a problem, actually. Hard to tell who was genuine and who was a Death Eater hoping to avoid Azkaban.”

“I literally understood maybe five of those words.”

“I thought you’d read the books,” Willow said.

“When do I have time to pleasure read? I’m lucky I saw the movies.”

“Your friend should be fine once we lift it,” Harry said.

“I really feel if that were the case, you wouldn’t have taken so long and qualified it so thoroughly.”

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with here, Sam,” Willow offered gently. “Wolfram and Hart makes this…difficult to predict. It’s not as easy as getting him out from there. They’ll kill him if they think he’s not useful anymore.”

The horror that stormed Sam’s face made her stomach churn, but there was no point sugarcoating the truth.

“I’ve seen you do amazing things,” he said softly. “Terrible things. And he’s Harry Potter.” He waved at Harry. “And there are a bunch of wizards and now angels and everything else. This law firm can’t be more powerful than all of you.”

“I’ll tell you something I heard when I was growing up,” Harry replied. “The other side has magic, too. And they don’t care about keeping people alive like we do.” He shifted his gaze to Willow. “Have you seen the girl yet? Rosalie?”

Willow frowned. “No… Actually, I haven’t seen anyone. I was expecting the place to be a lot…fuller.”

Sam waved at a room toward the back. “Faith took Rosalie back there about a half hour ago. Then that other British guy followed. Then Giles went after him. Which reminds me.” He dove a hand into his pocket and pulled out the nails. “On the scale of things to worry about, how high are these?”

Willow stormed forward, not taking her eyes off the nails. Damn, but she could feel the power radiating off these babies. Raw, strong, and so pure she could only imagine how they’d amplify some of the harder spells. “I’ll call… Well, I’m not sure who. I have three numbers in my phone. The angel told me to contact him after we had the nails but Apparated before he could tell me how.” She pulled out her cell and frowned at her recent call activity. “But I think this number belongs to the guy who told the angel to come see us.”

“Before I met you, my life was normal,” Sam muttered.

“Well, I tried to let you go back to it. You’re the one who wanted in.”

“How normal could it have been?” Harry asked. “American politics are a bloody mess.”

Sam shrugged. “That’s fair.”

Willow held up a hand as the call connected. “I’m calling about nails. Is this the right number? I’m Willow. Okay, Sam.”

“What?” Sam asked.

Willow shook her head. “Not you Sam. This guy Sam.” She paused. “Sorry, Sam. There’s a Sam right here too. Anyway, Sam—phone Sam, yes—I have these nails. I… Okay. Oh. Oh, damn. Okay. I’ll let Rosalie know. I don’t know; I just got here and haven’t seen her yet. The partner…” She glanced at Harry. “I think that’s why Harry set the Caterwauling Charm. What? Yes, Harry as in Harry Potter. How did you know that?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Muggles.”

“What? Yes, that was—okay, geez. Just tell your angel friend that I have the nails and he can come pick them up.” Willow shook her head and disconnected the call. “Okay, so Wright, Cordy, and Gunn are on their way back. Someone let them know about Rosalie.”

“Who’s Wright?”

“Rosalie’s dad.” Willow started toward the back where Sam had indicated the others had disappeared. “They were on their way to help find Buffy and Zack, but they’ll be here in a few hours. And that other Sam guy and his brother are on their way, too.”

“Why?”

“Don’t ask me. I am Jon Snow in this. I know nothing.” She paused outside the door to the office. “Rosalie? Sweetie, it’s Willow. Can I take a look at—”

The door swung open, revealing a somber-looking Giles. “Willow. When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. How’s Rosalie? I can draft up a calming tonic if you think that’d help—”

“She’s not here,” Giles said. “I have sent her with Nicholas.”

“Sent her where?”

“Into hiding.”

Okay, sense was not being made. Willow shook her head and glanced at Harry, but he looked none the wiser.

“Umm,” Willow said, “this might just be my hot take but…why?”

Giles sighed and removed his glasses—never a good sign. “Nicholas was rather adamant on this not being known, but I have made it quite impossible for either of them to be found and it was just cruel to worry her father needlessly. Rosalie is no longer the wearer of the bracelet.”

“You got it off?” Harry asked, impressed. “Nice job, mate.”

“I did no such thing. It appears that Faith…ascertained from Wesley the means of removing the bracelet.” He replaced his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “I’m not certain of the method, but suffice it to say, she is now the bracelet’s wearer.”

Willow’s jaw went slack. “She…she what?”

“She took Rosalie’s place.”

“Faith? Faith Lehane? Evil Faith? _Our_ Faith?”

Giles just nodded. “She isn’t the person she was. I believe she genuinely loved the girl. At any rate, though, she is not the active slayer. Her power will be a boon to Wolfram and Hart, yes, but Nicholas believes—and I concur—that they will attempt to reclaim the active slayer by any means necessary. I performed a simple but effective spell to make them untraceable.”

“What? Why?” Willow looked to Harry, then back again. “Mega powers here! Out there, she’s on her own. Why would you send them away?”

“Oh, Willow, I don’t know,” Giles snapped. “Why don’t I ask Josh Lyman? Or Wesley? Or Zack Morris? Angelus, who for some reason, is still running amok in this city yet still somehow manages to not be a considerable threat? Last year, Wolfram and Hart managed to coerce you to going dark. And when we went to bloody Hogwarts, they made Spike insane and—”

“I get the point, Giles.”

“Do you? Because if there’s anything this group has managed to prove, it’s that given the right circumstance, we are our own worst enemies. For the sake of the world, I thought it best to send Rosalie away. I also phoned Zack to inform him of what was happening because I do not wish him to learn through the grapevine. I assured him the situation was handled, but he is on his way back, regardless.” Giles sighed. “In the meantime, Buffy and Zack Morris are still missing and—”

“What about Faith?” Sam asked, edging forward.

Giles blinked at him as though he didn’t understand the question. “Sorry?”

“Faith,” Harry echoed, nodding. “You said she took the bracelet. That means she’s going to die. Shouldn’t we do something to help her?”

“She left,” Giles replied.

“So? We can find her, can’t we?”

Willow nodded. “We need to try.”

“We need to find Buffy,” Giles argued. “Wolfram and Hart have her now.”

“Yes, but Buffy doesn’t have a literal death bracelet on her wrist.”

“That we know of.”

Willow shook her head. “Giles, I want to find Buffy as much as you do, but Harry’s right.”

“I’m the one who brought it up,” Sam pouted.

“Okay— _Sam_ and Harry are right. Faith just offered to die for Rosalie. And her power will go to Wolfram and Hart if we don’t get to her first. Even if it’s not the full slayer line, that’s still a _lot_ of juice going to the bad guys.”

In the distance, the phone began to ring. They all paused, exchanging a series of bewildered glances.

“Everyone who works here is gone,” Sam said at last. “Or evil. Should we get it?”

Harry rolled his eyes and started toward the sound.

“You’ll excuse me if I care more about ensuring the safety of my slayer than the girl who once attempted to murder her,” Giles said. “I understand Faith has changed, but I will not prioritize her over Buffy. We don’t know what sort of danger she might be in.”

“But we know she’s Buffy and has been in situations like this before,” Willow replied, her voice rising.

“She’s still my slayer, no matter—”

“Oi! You lot!” Harry yelled. “There’s a Buffy Summers on the phone. This of interest to anyone?”

*~*~*

Zack paced nervously around Buffy, the van and the payphone. They’d been in one spot more time than he thought they should. If their kidnappers knew the goons they’d sent after them were dead, he expected they would be tracking the van by now. Maybe he could finally convince Buffy to thug herself up and let him steal a car.

“Hold on!” Buffy shouted into the phone. “I can’t understand all of you at once.”

“Quiet!” Zack whispered harshly. They were outside an abandoned gas station, but he really didn’t want to draw attention.

“Shut up,” Buffy snapped back. “Not you, Giles.” She rolled her eyes at Zack before turning away from him.

Zack continued to patrol around, hoping that Giles might give him a chance to talk to the kids. Or Kelly if she was back in LA with them.

“Holy mother of shit!” Buffy said to Giles. “You’re serious?”

“What?” Zack asked.

Buffy ignored him. “Where’s Spike?”

“Buffy! Tell me what’s happening!” Zack wished payphones had speaker options.

“How is he tracking us? It’s not like he’s a bloodhound.” She slapped her forehead. “He’s trying to be a fucking bloodhound. Of course he would.”

“Where’s Kelly?”

She finally listened to him. “And Kelly’s with him, right?”

Buffy was quiet several seconds. “Oh, well. That sounds about right. Look, we are literally in the middle of nowhere. Can Willow work us some magic? At least tell us how far to the next gas station. This tank is on empty.” She sighed with relief. “Okay, we’ll wait here, but we need to keep moving so tell her to put some boogie to it.” She gave a small smile. “I love you too.”

Zack was about ready to punch Buffy as she hung up the phone. “Way to leave me hanging, B!”

She shrugged, walking back to the van. “Looks like we were just one piece of another Wolfram and Hart apocalypse scheme.” She opened the passenger door and sat down. “Your biggest fan made a deal with the devil to put your head on a stick.”

“Wesley.” He’d spent the last year avoiding him as much as possible. He wouldn’t go inside the Hyperion if he were home. After everything, he honestly knew he would never earn the man’s forgiveness. Killing Fred was one thing her would never forgive of himself.

“In exchange for killing you, he made a deal to give them Rosalie’s Slayer powers. Either he forgot or didn’t care that we only have one way to give them away.”

“Death,” Zack said with a nod. His murder of Faith, even if she’d gotten better, was what triggered Rosalie to activate.

Buffy nodded. “Chaos ensued and somehow Faith got Wes to crack the code. Now Rosalie is safe and on the lam with Hunter, Wright and crew who had left to find us are speeding back home with those Winchester dudes and Kelly, Spike is trying to track us like a dog and Faith has set herself up to sacrifice herself for the world. Sounds like a typical weekend in our family.”

“Whoa.” Zack tried to process everything he’d just been told.

“So now we wait,” Buffy said, hugging herself in the chilly night air. “Willow is there and she’s got a plan.”

Zack nodded. “So now we wait.”

*~*~*

“You have a plan?” Sam asked.

Willow looked around the room at all the expectant faces. “Yeah…just gimme a minute to make one up.”

Harry folded his arms. “Can’t Apparate to Kansas?”

“Oh, shove it up your broomstick.”

Sam looked at her wide-eyed. “Now it’s permissible?”

“He’s my friend,” Willow clarified.

“Was your friend,” Harry said with a smirk.

“Focus!” Giles snapped.

“Yes,” Willow said shaking the cobwebs from her head. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out the best way to put all the pieces of this apocalyptic puzzle together.

“Now what?” Sam asked in a distracting whisper.

Harry responded. “Now we wait.”

*~*~*

Nick was growing concerned about Rosalie. He kept racing down the interstate, but was constantly sneaking glances to the woman slumped in the passenger seat. She hadn’t stirred when her cellphone rang, nor when it alerted she’d received a voicemail. He knew Faith packed a helluva punch, but a brain-damaged Slayer wasn’t exactly part of the plan.

He gripped the wheel with all his strength, busting open the cut on his right knuckle that had just closed. He hissed in pain, hoping that Wesley was suffering more from the taste of death Nick had given him. While logic told him keeping him alive was obviously the right plan, part of him wished he’d been able to bash his brains in.

Rosalie moaned and Nick gave a sigh of relief. “Sorry, love. Just remember I wasn’t the one who hit you.”

Rosalie growled before squinting open her left eye. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know.”

Rosalie opened both eyes and began surveying her surroundings. “What the hell?” she asked in a thick groggy voice.

“This wasn’t my plan,” Nick began. “But I signed off on it and I can’t apologize.”

“Whose car is this?” she said, looking around. “Where are we going?” She looked at her wrist. “Where’s the bracelet?”

Nick sighed, giving her a sidelong glance. “Giles, I don’t know and on Faith now.”

“No!” Rosalie snapped. She reached over to make a grab toward the wheel. Nick slapped her hand back, immediately regretting the decision. There was distinct possibility he’d broken a bone on Wesley’s face.

“Fuck!” he shouted, causing Rosalie to move back. He took a couple steadying breaths. “You have a voicemail. I hope it’s her.”

Rosalie looked mutinous as she reached into her sweatpants pocket and grabbed her phone. Nick prepared himself for his Slayer’s next attempt of heroism.

“No.” He could hear the emotion in her voice. “No, Nick,” she sobbed. “We have to go back. We have to save her!”

“How?” Nick said much harsher than intended, but fuck if he wasn’t upset just as much.

“Turn around!”

“No,” he responded curtly. He hit the accelerator to keep her from the dumb idea of jumping out.

“Stop the car!”

“For what? I’m about to lose my best fucking mate! I’m not about to lose you too, goddammit!”

“Nicholas Hunter!”

“Rosalie Wright!”

“Fuck you!”

“Well fuck you, too!”

The car grew silent aside from the heavy breaths and sniffles. Several minutes of quiet crying continued between them carried them down the highway.

“If there was any other way,” Nick said softly.

“I know.” Rosalie stared out the passenger window. “But this is wrong. We’re running away.”

“Wolfram and Hart has waged war on you. They’ve manipulated and cursed people to get to you and the power you possess. We honestly don’t know who to trust.”

She looked to him. “But Faith—“

“Faith made this plan. She made her choice and it isn’t fair to her for either of us to bugger this up.”

Rosalie folded her arms and turned back to the window. “Don’t I get a say?”

“At this moment, no you do not.” He released a frustrated grunt.

“Well, you suck.”

“Yeah, I’ll pretend to care while I save your pretty ungrateful face.” He gave her a glance. “The car and us are completely undetectable. Giles cast an unbreakable protection spell. This plan has the endorsement of two Watchers and a Slayer. You’re outvoted, poppet.”

“You forgot shoes.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You forgot my shoes.”

“That’s your focus?”

“No,” she snapped, turning to face him. “My focus is saving Faith, but I need shoes. How do I fight anything in my socks?”

Nick’s head felt like it was about to explode. “We will get you shoes.”

“What if something happens before then?”

“Fuck all, Ro. You can wear my shoes.”

“They’re too big. They’ll fly off when I kick. I’d just comically knock them in the head.”

“I swear you are already wearing my shoes because I feel like you just comically knocked me in the head.”

Rosalie suddenly burst into tears. Nick reached over and gently placed his injured hand on her knee. “I know,” his voice breaking as grief hit him once again.

“I wish she was here,” Rosalie whispered. “I wish we could fix it.”

“So do I.”

*~*~*

“This is utterly ridiculous,” Giles muttered under his breath.

“Shhh!” Sam and Harry replied in unison.

“I got it!” Willow said, thrusting her arms up in victory. She whipped around and grabbed Sam, planting a big smack right on his lips.

That was a very poor life choice. After the quick peck, her baser instincts decided that wasn’t enough. Apparently Sam agreed, because a quick surprised expression immediately morphed into a heavy heated stare. Like magnets, their lips came back together in a longer and more sensual exchange.

“Bloody hell!” Giles yelled at her, reminding her that making out with her…Sam would have to wait.

“Victory kiss?” she said lamely as she looked at the irritated Watcher.

“The plan?” Harry gently prodded.

“Yes!” she said, snapping her fingers. She reached for her phone and set the wheels in motion. Dialing a number that should be awaiting her call and excited when he answered. “Hey, it’s Willow. I have them and I’m at the Hyperion in Los Angeles. It’s also the address of Wright and Pryce Investigations.” When the line went dead, she finished with, “Yeah, you’re welcome. And bye.”

The front door opened. “Thank you and hello,” Castiel said as he entered the foyer.

She turned to Sam. “I get it now. Remind me not to do that trick again.”

A flash of silver flew through the air and the angel grunted as something hit him in the chest. He looked down and pulled out what happened to be a knife. “Hello, Mr. Giles.”

“Giles!” Willow exclaimed in horror. “We do not stab the deity!”

“I warned you both,” Giles huffed, crossing his arms in a pout.

“Sorry about that,” Willow said turning back to Castiel. “Do you need a Band-Aid? Or a cookie? I can heal you up.”

The angel shook his head. “I’m fine. The nails?”

“Yes!” Willow walked to him, slightly reluctant to release something so overtly powerful. “Can we get those back when you’re done?”

“I will return them to you.” He gave a brief look over her shoulder to Giles. “Yes, I will return them to you.”

“Cool. Now for the favor part.”

Castiel arched his brows. “Favor part?”

“Yeah, quid pro quo. I scratched your back so now scratch mine.”

“I thought Sam and Dean’s help was the exchange.”

“No, that was friends being friends after the friend’s friend stole the other friend’s car.”

Castiel blinked. “Are you saying Sam and Dean are now friends with the vampires that beat them up and stole their car?”

“I’m saying that wasn’t the favor. This is. I need you to go get our friends, Buffy and Zack.” She pulled out a small piece of paper from her pocket. “I wrote down their coordinates after I did a location spell on the payphone they used. Take them somewhere safe so that Wolfram and Hart doesn’t rekidnap them.”

“I don’t believe rekidnap is a word.”

“I don’t believe that the rule about stabbing deities isn’t renegotiable.”

Castiel took the proffered paper from her hand. “Understood.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks!”

The angel gave her a bemused look. “You’re welcome.” Then, he turned abruptly and left.

Willow sighed and turned around to face the others. “And that is how you multitask, boys.”

*~*~*

“Buffy Summers.”

Buffy prided herself on many things, including being damn-near impossible to sneak up on. People had had a hard enough time when she’d been human; as a vampire, she could usually tell that someone was on their way before they unlocked their car. Therefore, it was immensely disconcerting when a voice appeared out of freaking nowhere, which made the yell she released and the punch she aimed both extremely acceptable responses.

It was just a shame that, by the time she caught a glance of her would-be-attacker, she realized it was a friend, not a foe.

“Oops,” she said as the angel she and Zack had met back in the Natchez cemetery crashed against the side of the van. “Sorry. But in my defense, you were within punching distance.”

Zack wasn’t quite as contrite. “The fuck do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on people like that?”

The angel rose to his feet, rubbing his jaw. “I haven’t been punched by a slayer since 1392. This hurts a lot more than I recall.”

“Slayer plus vampire equals industrial-sized Band-Aids,” Buffy agreed.

“Willow Rosenberg asked me to retrieve you,” the angel said. “I am here to take you to the bunker.”

“What’s the bunker?”

“It is our central base of operations. Virtually impenetrable. You two should be safe.”

Zack was already shaking his head, and Buffy was right there along with him.

“We’re going to LA,” Zack said.

“That seems most unwise, considering that is also the location of the people responsible for your abduction.”

“‘People,’” Buffy replied with air quotes. “And yeah, that was our thinking too. Before we learned that we’re a diversion to kill a teenage girl and doom the world as we know it. I don’t back down from those fights.”

“I really don’t think—”

“This is my fault,” Zack interrupted. “All of it. Whatever deal Wes made was because of me. So yeah, we’re going to LA.”

Buffy sighed. “Zack—”

“No, it was my fault and I’m not having this argument again. You take what I did out of the equation, and none of this would be happening. So yes, soul or not, this is my mess. My niece’s life is on the line and Faith…” He broke off, shaking his head. “Rosalie wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for what I did to Faith. Faith wouldn’t be, either. You’re not going to stow me away in a safe-house while people I love are suffering.”

Buffy wanted to argue, but no argument was forthcoming. Mainly because Zack was right. No amount of soul could undo the damage he’d done when he’d been without one, and even if the version of Zack responsible was no longer at the wheel, the fact that it was a version of Zack meant that Zack wouldn’t be happy unless he was part of the solution.

“Do you know where Spike is?” she asked the angel. “He’ll want in on this too.”

That was the most level-headed reason she could supply. The others weren’t fit for polite company. At least not celestial company. She still didn’t know what to think about this “angels are real” business.

“No,” the angel replied. “But once his location is pinpointed, I can deliver him.”

“He’s not a pizza. He’s my husband.”

The angel frowned. “I can also deliver a pizza.”

Zack snorted. Buffy rolled her eyes.

“Just take us to Willow,” she said.


	23. Chapter 23

A high-pitched scream rent through the Hyperion’s previously still air, nearly piercing Willow’s eardrums. She clapped her hands over her ears and screwed her eyes shut like that would help, but it just seemed to make the sound echo in her head. There was movement around her and she was certain someone had yelled her name, but nothing was audible over the screeching wail.

Then it was over, leaving her with a ringing head. She opened her eyes to see Giles and Sam tentatively removing their hands from over their own ears. Harry was nowhere to be found.

“What,” Giles panted, “the…bloody…hell…was that?”

Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, wand out and breathless. “That Wes bloke tripped the Caterwauling Charm,” he said, rushing to the lobby. “Smashed a window upstairs and scarpered.”

“What?” Willow snapped.

“I don’t know, I’m looking,” Harry replied, rushing past her and to the rear entrance. “I didn’t see him on the ground. Unless he had magic of his own, he’d have broken something in the fall. The room was on the third floor.”

Harry disappeared out the back with a scream of, “ _Lumos_.”

Willow turned to Giles, her heart thudding. “Wes…wouldn’t have magic of his own, would he? He doesn’t know how to do spells, right?”

“I honestly have no clue,” Giles said, his voice a low growl. “Though it’s certainly a possibility. He was a Watcher, for one. We all have the basic knowledge of the more common spells that we might encounter among beginning practitioners. Combined with his role here, he might have enough know-how to perform an escape.”

“Something that would have been brilliant to know before I cast the charm,” Harry said as he slumped back into the lobby. “No sign of him. Looks like he hoofed it.”

Sam was still tapping his ears. “Why wait? If he intended to run, he could have after Faith left him alone and before the bleeding-ear whatever was set.”

“Caterwauling Charm,” Harry said.

“Tell that to my ears.”

Giles shook his head. “There’s no telling. I thought I knew the man, but trying to understand him now is—”

The lobby doors exploded inward without ceremony, and then Wright was there, stomping into the room with eyes set on murder. “WHERE THE FUCK IS HE?”

Giles sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Actually, I think I might have cracked the case.”

Wright scoured the lobby before his glare settled on Giles. “Where. Is. Wesley?”

“And what the hell was that awful sound?” came Cordelia’s voice as she stumbled in behind her husband. “We heard it halfway up the street. That wasn’t coming from here, was it?”

Harry seemed to reach the same conclusion Giles had landed on. He released a long breath and tore a hand through his untamed hair. “Security measure,” he explained. “Meant to tip us off if the git made a run for it.”

“He saw you coming,” Giles said. “He must have.”

“He couldn’t have,” Cordelia retorted. “We’re in a different car.”

“An awesome car.” That was Gunn, and though his words were light, his expression was anything but. Like Wright, he looked ready to murder. “Did ya’ll say that awful screaming sound came from here? When did we get that kind of alarm and how soon can it be uninstalled?”

Wright didn’t seem to be listening. “Fine. Where is my daughter?” he snapped, looking around. “Where’s Rosalie?”

Willow met Sam’s eyes, not surprised that he looked terrified.

“Umm,” she said, her voice a pitch higher than normal. “That sounds like a great question for Giles to answer. Giles, why don’t you tell Wright where—”

“She’s safe,” Giles answered solemnly. “That is all that matters.”

Wright tilted his head, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “You’re gonna tell me. Right the fuck now.”

“I cannot.”

“You cannot?”

“Faith has assumed ownership of the bracelet. Rosalie is no longer in danger of—”

“I know that,” Wright snapped.

Willow frowned. “Umm…how?”

“She left him a phone message,” Cordelia said soberly. “We didn’t get it because we were on the line with Giles at the time. She…more or less called to let us know that Rosalie was safe and to say goodbye.”

Gunn swallowed hard and looked away.

“I sent Rosalie with Nicholas,” Giles said. “For her own safety. With Wolfram and Hart after her power, Los Angeles isn’t safe for her.”

“You what?” Wright’s voice was low and deadly. “You sent my daughter away, and you’re not telling me where? Fix it. Now.”

“I can’t. And I wouldn’t if I could. I performed a very simple but very effective concealment spell to ensure they cannot be located. Only Rosalie and Nicholas have the ability to break it.”

For a moment, Willow thought Wright might actually take a swing at Giles. At the very least, it seemed to cross his mind. He stared for long, thick seconds, his nostrils flared, his cheeks sucked in, and his balled-up fists twitching at his sides. Then, with what looked to be extreme control, he directed that deadly focus on Willow.

“Find them,” he said.

“She can’t,” Giles said.

“Bullshit. I’ve seen her work bigger magic than you can even dream about, old man.”

“Yes, and the spell I used was developed precisely with witches like Willow in mind.” He hesitated, then held up a hand. “Harry won’t be able to help you, either. Nor Hermione Granger, when she arrives.”

Cordelia turned and blinked at Harry. “Crap, are you Harry Potter?”

Harry plastered on a weak smile and nodded.

“I don’t care about Harry Potter,” Wright snarled. “I don’t care about location spells. You sent my daughter out of my home without consulting me. Without…without…”

“I did it to protect her. And the world,” Giles said softly. “Rosalie is more than just a girl. She is the Chosen One. And her power, were it removed, would mean horrible things not just for her, but all of us. She is not just your daughter anymore, Zackary. Whether or not you approve. She didn’t ask to be Chosen but she was, which means her responsibilities, her well-being, is something far greater than most anyone else can appreciate.”

“Oh yeah. Business as usual. Easy to say when it’s not your kid on the line.” Wright was vibrating now with so much rage he looked like he might actually explode. And for his part, Giles didn’t seem nearly as concerned as he should be. “I’ve already lost one family. You expect me to stand here and accept that my daughter is on the run with a guy who can barely keep his hands off one slayer long enough to do his fucking job? But sure, it’s all fine for you. Not like you have kids of your own, you have to fuck with mine.”

Willow bit back a whimper. The light in Giles’s eyes darkened.

“Say that again,” Giles said softly. “Look me in the eye and tell me again that I don’t understand. That I didn’t feel exactly this when Buffy was kidnapped by Wolfram and Hart ten years ago, at the mercy of three vampires, one of whom not only murdered the woman I loved, but left her waiting for me in my bed. Tell me that it didn’t kill me to trust a soulless creature who had killed not one, but two slayers in the past to bring her home. I didn’t know Spike was in love with Buffy at the time—no one did. We were forced to trust someone who had tried to kill us numerous times to rescue the girl who might as well be my daughter. Did I ever tell you that was the reason I was fired from Watcher’s Council? Because I had a father’s love for her? No? Well, it was. So please, Zackary, explain to me in very small words how and why I can’t possibly understand how you feel right now. Tell me I didn’t have Rosalie’s best interest in mind when I signed off on this plan to send her with someone she trusts when we don’t even know who all our enemies are. Wesley was manipulated by grief and vengeance, as well you might have been at one time, to do something reprehensible. Another ally has been under a curse for at least a year and he might not be the only one.”

“Who?” Cordelia asked, her voice choked.

“Josh,” Sam said softly. “He… I don’t understand everything that’s happening, but this law firm’s plans are more involved than… They’re flexing their political muscle, too.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Gunn demanded.

“They want Sam in the White House,” Willow said. “A president they can control.”

Cordelia closed her eyes and shook her head. “Zack,” she said softly, stepping forward with courage that no one else in the room seemed capable of. She curled a hand around his arm. “Sweetie, I know you’re scared. I’m terrified. But… Giles is right. We don’t know who we can trust.” She glanced at Willow. “Some people here have a habit of going bad.”

Willow wiggled and crossed her arms. “I haven’t felt even a twinge, thank you.”

“Nothing personal, Wills, but we can’t take any chances.” She turned back to Wright, who looked on the verge of either screaming bloody murder or bursting into tears. “We trusted Wes and look where that got us.”

“I didn’t,” Wright replied, his voice barely a whisper. “I didn’t trust Wes. I asked Faith to…to…” He broke away, two tears spilling down his cheeks. And that seemed to shove him over the edge. He choked a sob and drew Cordelia into his arms, crushing her to him so tightly it looked like it might hurt. If it did, though, Cordelia didn’t protest. “I can’t keep doing this,” he said into her hair. “Last year with you and the baby. This year… I can’t keep at it.”

Sam blushed and looked away. Harry suddenly seemed very interested in the ceiling. Gunn just stared at the ground.

“Yes you can,” Cordelia replied. “You’re the strongest, bravest, baddest guy in the whole wide world. And Rosalie’s safe. Faith gave her life for Rosalie’s. She wouldn’t have sent her with someone she didn’t trust.”

Wright pulled back at that, dragging a hand under his wet eyes. “Faith. God…” He looked at Willow. “We can help her, right? Try, at least? She hasn’t…”

“We don’t know,” Willow said. “I want to do a location spell, but the best ones involve blood. And I know Faith bleeds a lot, but I don’t know which weapons she uses and if I use the wrong blood sample, it could take a long time.”

Gunn was in motion before she stopped talking, stalking with intent toward the weapons chest. He threw it open, pulled a few things out, then headed back to Willow, a blade in hand. “See her with this one the most,” he said, thrusting the weapon into Willow’s arms. “Gave her a bunch of shit a few weeks back. Some fyral demon managed to get it from her and stick it in her shoulder. She killed him extra dead.” He nodded. “That’ll have it.”

“That’s perfect, Gunn. I can get this done—”

“Willow Rosenberg.”

Willow started and whirled around, ready to lob an energy blast at whoever was behind her. Until she met Castiel’s eyes and—

“Buffy!” She hurried over and threw her arms around her friend, mindful of the weapon she held, and nearly knocking her down in the process.

“Thank god,” Giles muttered. He didn’t even manage a glare at Castiel as he hurried over to wait in line for his hug.

Buffy gave her a tight squeeze—tight enough to let Willow know she wasn’t thinking, because _ouch_. Then she pulled back and looked to Wright. “I am so sorry,” she said as Giles pulled her into an embrace.

“No, I’m so sorry,” Zack Morris said. “This is my mess and we’re going to fix it.”

Wright didn’t say anything. Just looked between the two of them and nodded. He then shifted his attention to Giles and nodded—just once. And it communicated a world of things. His understanding. His apology. His forgiveness.

“Has anyone heard from Kelly?” Zack asked.

“Or Spike?” Buffy added.

Wright reached into his pocket, produced a cell phone, and tossed it at Buffy. “Call Cordy. He has her phone.”

“Thank you god,” she muttered, and disappeared, fingers already in motion.

“What about Kelly?” Zack demanded.

“Kelly is with the Winchesters,” Wright replied, his voice rough and dull. “They’re right behind us.”

“Maybe an hour behind us,” Cordelia corrected. “That Winnebago is slooooooow.”

“The who?” Giles asked, frowning. “Are we supposed to know who these…Winchesters are?”

“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Castiel replied, then, upon receiving a sidelong glare from Giles, took a step toward Willow. “They’re hunters. Excel at fighting demons and the forces of darkness.” He straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I help.”

“Okay, and who is the hell are you?” Gunn asked.

“I am an angel of the lord.”

“Necessary bloody evil, it seems,” Giles muttered.

“An angel?” Wright narrowed his eyes. “Like, harps and singing on clouds kind of angel?”

“Not exactly.”

“Spike is in Oklahoma City,” Buffy said as she rejoined the group. “At some place called the Bear Necessities. Angel?”

Cordelia looked around. “Umm…where? That’s all we need.”

“No—I mean…” She tapped Castiel’s shoulder. “Sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel—can you please go—”

He popped away, was gone for about five seconds, then returned with a very harried-looking Spike, whose eyes filled with such relief it was almost embarrassing.

“Slayer,” he growled, and stormed toward her.

Buffy threw her arms around him with a burst of happy laughter. “You won’t believe the week I’ve had.”

The reunions, happy as they were, seemed too much for Wright. He slinked off toward his office without a word, Cordelia right behind him.

Gunn looked to Willow, and nodded at the blade in her hands.

“Right,” she said, straightening. “This shouldn’t take long.”

*~*~*

When the Impala came into view, Dean nearly wept with joy.

“There’s my girl,” he said, and was out of the driver’s seat almost before the Winnebago lurched to a stop. “My beautiful girl.”

Sam threw an apologetic look at Kelly. “He… It’s a thing.”

Kelly just nodded and rushed toward the entrance of the hotel. He heard her scream, “Zack!” and then a bunch of cries of relief, and grinned in spite of himself. Seemed the vampires were all back where they needed to be.

Sam found Dean circling Baby in the familiar looking-for-damage way. Aside from a few mud splatters, she looked to be more or less whole. Not that Dean would be satisfied until he had personally crawled over every inch of the car, but they didn’t have time for that.

“Dean.”

“I know.” Dean straightened and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go see who we’re putting in the ground.”

The hotel was one of those grand affairs that seemed torn out of the pages of history. The lobby was full, split between familiar faces and complete strangers. Dean spied Spike almost immediately and was about to storm over and likely get himself knocked out; Sam grabbed his shoulder before he could get more than a few feet.

“After,” he said.

“Oh, you bet your ass, after,” Dean snarled. Then he shook his head and went still. “Dude.”

“What?”

“That guy—over there. The hair, the glasses.” A broad smile broke across Dean’s face. “He doesn’t look anything like Radcliffe, but… Hey!”

The lobby went silent and everyone looked at them.

The black hunter that Sam had previously seen with Wright, brief as it was, held up a hand before the Harry Potter look-alike—yeah, he was reaching for a wand.

“These are the Winchesters,” Gunn said. “Don’t know ’em, but they’re friends of Wright’s.”

“They got me home,” Kelly said, from where she stood near her husband. “They’re good people.”

“So don’t steal their fucking car,” Dean snapped.

Spike just smirked and tightened the arm he’d thrown around Buffy. “Poor thing’s not being driven properly,” he replied, and Sam swallowed a groan. “Had to show her what she can really do, didn’t I?”

“You son-of-a—”

“ _Protego_!” the guy who had to be Harry Potter shouted, and a translucent shield populated in the space between Dean and Spike. “I don’t know either of you,” he said, his face set in a scowl. “But believe me when I say this is not the time.”

Seeing the wizard perform actual magic seemed to deflate Dean a bit. “You’re Harry Potter.”

“I bloody well know that.”

“I gotta bone to pick with you.” He headed over to the wizard who had just casually prevented him from likely getting his ass handed to him by a vampire and said, “Every single one of those stupid online quizzes I’ve ever taken puts me in Hufflepuff. Me. Who do I see to fix that?”

Sam sighed. This was why Dean couldn’t be taken anywhere.

Harry just blinked at him as though he were witnessing a man having a stroke. “I…you’re a Muggle.”

“Yeah. A Muggle who belongs in Gryffindor, dammit.”

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Dean…”

“Hufflepuffs are loyal, hardworking, dedicated, fair, and patient,” Harry replied slowly. “What exactly is the problem?”

“He’s not patient,” Sam answered.

“It’s not exact,” Harry snapped. “They’ve also had the fewest dark wizards of any of the houses. They stood with me against Voldemort.” He scowled. “They’re some of the bravest people I know.”

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment, then straightened his shoulders, looking somewhat mollified. “I’m a Hufflepuff,” he said, voice now ringing with pride.

“Gryffindors are chivalrous, daring, and brave.”

The pride vanished as though it had never existed. “I’m all those things too, goddammit! Put me in Gryffindor.”

“Are you mental?” Harry threw up his hand. “I don’t know what quiz you took or where the Sorting Hat would actually place you. I don’t even know your bloody name. And is this even relevant right now?”

“I’m Dean.” Dean pointed at Sam. “That’s Sam. And hell yes, it’s relevant.”

“Guys.” A redhead stood, and she must have been important, because everyone quieted immediately. “I know where Faith is.”

*~*~*

Her senses told him he was inside the moment they turned into the parking lot. She almost felt bad as she took off out the Winnebago before it had been put into park. Normal Kelly would have walked Sam and Dean inside and introduced them to the others.

Fuck that.

“Zack!” she cried the moment her legs carried her through the threshold of the Hyperion.

“Kelly!” Zack and several others replied in unison.

Her husband made his way toward her, but she covered the distance quicker, launching herself into his arms and wrapping her legs around him.

A lesser man may have buckled under the weight and force in contact, but Zack held his ground, wrapping his arms firmly around her and nestling his face into the crook of her neck. She felt his lips on her throat, kissing her with soft and quiet moan.

It took a few moments for reality to permeate the bubble around her in that moment. Opening her eyes, she saw a sea of familiar faces staring back at her with mixtures of sadness, fear and a brief glimpse of relief at seeing her arrival. Sam and Dean had entered and joined the clamor of conversation happening around the room.

Slowly she unwrapped herself from Zack’s body, placing her feet on the ground and pushing him back to look into his eyes. “If those bastards try and take you from me one more time, I’m locking you in a dungeon until every human in this building is old and dead.”

He turned wide-eyed a second before his expression morphed into a smile. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said with a nod, pulling back and making eyes with one of the two other men she needed to talk to. “Giles?”

Giles rushed forward and embraced her in a hug. “The children are safe. Melody has them,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her cheek and pulling away.

A warm rush of pure alleviation flowed through Kelly. She knew Zack had heard because he gave an audible sigh of relief.

Next she turned to Spike and her expression darkened. “You ass!”

“I regret nothing,” Spike stated defiantly.

Kelly arched a brow in skepticism. “I should have left the ring,” he added.

She growled and took a menacing step forward. “Fine!” Spike said throwing his hands up. “Next time someone jacks your husband, I’ll remember you.” It sounded nice until he added, “Probably.”

She rolled her eyes and figured that was all the apology she’d get. Turning to Giles, she asked, “What’s going on?”

“I found Faith,” Willow said loudly and obviously annoyed.

“Oh,” Kelly blushed. “Yeah, tell us about that please.”

The witchy woman gave her a slightly less angry glance before turning to the others. “She’s in a cemetery not too far from here.”

“Wes has escaped,” Gunn pointed out. 

“And Rosalie is out there unprotected,” Buffy added.

“Her Watcher is with her,” Giles told his surrogate daughter.

Buffy gave him a sympathetic look. “Yeah, but he can’t defend her in a fight. Zack and I were taken by a gang of demons I’ve never seen before. They had absolutely no scent. No energy signature. We don’t know all the ways of the Dark Side. We need to find her before they do.”

Kelly looked to her husband. She recognized the look in his eyes. They needed to get to their children. One thing they’d learned was that Wolfram & Hart wouldn’t hesitate to find someone vulnerable to manipulate in any traumatic situation. With a nod, they turned at once and headed toward the door.

“Wes is out there and desperate.” Kelly didn’t think the man was capable of hurting a child, he’d just tried to kill his best friend’s daughter. What stopped him from using Rosie, William or even baby Kelly to draw Zack out.

“I know,” Zack agreed, walking straight to Wright’s truck before using the clicker to unlock the doors.

“How did you—“

“Spike slipped them to me after Buffy and I got back. Pretty sure he knew I was gonna get to the kids.”

“Glad he did that right,” Kelly muttered as she opened the passenger door and pulled herself up into the cab.

Zack hopped in the driver’s seat and held out his hand. “He gave me this,” he said pressing a ring into her palm.

“You wear it,” she pointed out.

“Nope. Too small for my hand.”

She shook her head. “No. You need to wear it in case Wes attacks or they separate us again.”

Zack pulled the truck out of the Hyperion parking lot. “Put it on or put it in your pocket. I won’t take it.”

She knew it was pointless to argue. Plus she had no intentions of him leaving her sight until Wes was found.

“Are you okay?” Zack asked her.

She blinked. “Me? You’re the one who was kidnapped. You look terrible by the way.”

“I may have a couple new scars, but I wasn’t stuck with those two guys who tried to attack us. They fuck with you? Give you any shit? I’ll run back and bite them if you say the word.”

Kelly chuckled. “Down there, tiger. Sam and Dean Winchester are good guys. In a weird sort of way, I’m grateful I got stuck with them. I think I needed them to help me through some stuff.”

Zack gave her a dirty look. “Do I need to go back and bite them for seducing my wife?”

“Really?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “That’s how you took it?”

Her husband shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Well, no. They didn’t help Kelly get her groove back. Actually they helped Kelly realize she was ready to put this last year behind her and move on.”

“Oh?” Zack dared a quick glance her direction. She saw the cautiously optimistic sparkle in his eyes as the traffic lights shone above them.

“I forgive you, Zack. I should have done it sooner, but I was scared. I was scared to let down my guard and let you back in. Because I lost you. They took you away and made you do awful things I know you would never have done. I know somewhere your soul was screaming and begging to stop it and you had no control. You were a victim every bit as much as anyone else. And I should have been there for you. I let my fear of losing you push you away when you needed me most. I’m so sorry, Zack.”

She hadn’t noticed they were stopped until he reached across the cab of the truck and drug her to him, slamming his mouth against hers.

Every part of her body seemed to cry out in happiness as she pulled his tongue into her mouth. Her heart sang and the demon inside purred.

It wasn’t until the sound of car horns and shouts was identified by her brain that she pushed back from her husband’s lips.

“I should go,” Zack said, but he hadn’t made any attempt to move from the position she left him.

“Yeah, getting stopped by the cops really isn’t going to speed this up.”

“Yeah,” He said slowly turning his attention back to steering the truck.

“But just so you know, once we get this all dealt with, Kelly is definitely getting her groove back.”

He flashed that devilish grin she’d loved since he was just a boy. “Roger that, Mrs. Buttersworth.”

*~*~*

“Did those two just walk out?” Sam Seaborn asked.

“They have two little bits out there and a vengeful bastard on the loose. Of fucking course they slipped off,” Spike said with an eye roll. “He attacked the kid. He’s fighting dirty.”

“That’s why we need to go after Rosalie,” Buffy said to her husband.

“She’s completely untraceable,” Willow replied. “The spell Giles used was hella powerful.” She eyes the man. “And pretty sneaky.”

Giles smiled with pride. “That was the point.” The grin faded quickly from his face. “Because we truly aren’t sure who may be under magical control.”

“Fine,” Buffy shrugged. “It gets the last Slayer out of L.A. and away from any double agents. My husband is part bloodhound and I’m all parts determined not to let them hurt her.”

Giles sighed. “You didn’t even give me an hour peace of mind before running off to save the world again.”

“We both know this long was just a lucky break.” She walked over to give the man a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, can I borrow your car?” Spike asked Dean, chuckling as the man tried to make it through the shield Harry still held between them.

“One day, I’m going to get your ass, son of a bitch!”

“And one day I’m going to thoroughly enjoy knocking you unconscious,” Spike teased.

“Whatever,” Willow grumbled. “Harry, Gunn and Giles go try and track down Wes.” She then looked to Sam. “You’re being hunted by Wolfram and Hart! I can’t leave you alone!”

“Fine,” Sam agreed. “We’ll go get Faith and have her come back here so you and Hermione can both work on the bracelet.”

“You aren’t going out wandering through a graveyard, Mr. Governor,” Willow said shaking her head.

Mr. Governor rolled his eyes. “This is a little more important than my career.”

“She right,” Harry interjected. “We don’t know what they want to do with you. You’re safer here than out in the open at the moment. We have to play defense until we get the quaffle back.”

“What is a quaffle?” Castiel asked toward the Winchesters.

“Yes!” Willow said turning to angel. “Will you please—“

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said holding up the nails. “I must deal with the Inferi at once. I let my amusement with the conversations serve as distraction.” He turned to Sam and Dean. “Are you okay here?”

“Yeah,” Sam said with a nod. “Go, Cas.”

“Well there goes my last option,” Willow pouted as Castiel left the building.

“We can help,” Sam Winchester offered.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Because some chick with a death sentence is going to trust two strangers showing up and telling her to come with them.”

“Well, it’s Faith,” the witch said with a shrug. “The fact that she’s trying to sacrifice herself to save the world is pretty surprising already. I don’t know up from down. Plus you two are pretty hot. She’s a total whore so I think it might work.”

Dean whistled. “Tell us how you really feel, lady.”

“Pretty hot?” Sam Seaborn questioned.

“Hush,” Willow said with a hint of a smile and blush. She looked to the Winchesters. “Are you in?”

Sam Winchester shrugged. “We’ve faced worse odds.”

*~*~*

Rosalie was exhausted. Grief, crying and a concussion all played a part. Hours in the car with very minimal tinkle breaks, had left her feeling stiff and sore. Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, she gave Hunter a long look. “Are you ever going to stop?”

They’d drove through Death Valley to the outskirts of Las Vegas before turning north and heading up into Utah. They’d just finished driving through a curvy stretch of highway surrounded by tall stony mountains. She saw the lights of civilization forming up ahead. “I’m fine,” Hunter said through an escaped yawn.

“If you won’t stop somewhere, will you at least let me drive?” She rolled her eyes at the weary look he shot her. “Shut up! I don’t even know how to get back to L.A.”

They had taken the batteries out of the cellphones on the off-chance that someone could track those while they were protected under the spell. Hunter admitted he wasn’t sure and it seemed dumb to take the chance. Without a GPS, Rosalie had to rely on the highway signs to give her any clue where they were.

“I suppose killing you in a car accident would really defeat the purpose of all this.”

“Just a little bit.”

She sat up in the seat and stretched, wiggling her toes in the flip flops they’d bought at the first test stop she’d demanded for a pee break. She wasn’t wearing the footwear for a fight, but she figured she’d still be able to dust a few vamps.

“Maybe I’ll buy a map before we go past this place. We are starting have more kilometers between settlements.”

“Miles, too,” Rosalie teased.

“You know you guys are fighting a losing battle, right? The rest of the world uses the metric system.”

“Yeah and didn’t we kick all your asses in one war or another?”

“Cheeky little wench,” Hunter muttered under his breath.

“That’s what I thought,” Rosalie said leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself to try and relax. She didn’t exactly want to keep driving into the night, but if Hunter was determined to keep increasing the distance between her and Wolfram & Hart, she wasn’t going to keep trying to resist. She was far too exhausted for another screaming match.

Grief kicked her in the stomach one more time. At once, fear and despair gripped her chest and made her heart race and her throat tighten. At first she thought she was battling her own emotions, but then a familiar energy came over her. Behind her closed eyes, she saw him with his head bowed down atop his folded arms, shuddering sobs shaking his body as he leaned against the desk. “Dad?” she whispered, desperate to console him. “Oh God, Dad! Please! Don’t! Dad I’m okay, I swear!”

“Rosalie?” Hunter has both hands on her. She opened her eyes to see he had pulled off the road.

She blinked back tears as she looked at the man. “Nick, I have to call him. I have to call him now.”

He sighed. “We really can’t afford to take that risk.”

“No,” she said as she reached to the glove compartment to get her phone and battery. “That was a vision, Nick.” She snapped the two pieces into place, powering up the device. She looked at him once more. “I _felt_ him. The fear, the grief. He isn’t under any evil spell. I _know_.”

Hunter leaned back into the driver’s seat. He gave her a long look before nodding his head. “I trust you. Just remember we don’t know if they are tracking or monitoring the phones. We can’t tell anymore than we’re safe and we’re not coming back.”

“I know,” she said before hitting the button for her top contact.

“Dad?”

*~*~*

“Faith.”

Faith’s spine went rigid and she balled her hands into fists. “I fucking told you what I’d do to you if you left that goddamn room.”

Wesley rounded the tombstone on which she sat, and she allowed herself a moment of pleasure at the sight of him. Not because he looked good, but because he really, really didn’t. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair was a mess, and it looked like he’d wrestled with a dumpster demon and lost. A large scrape stretched the length of his left cheek and his hands were spattered with dirt.

“I know,” he said, holding up those hands. “And…I know I deserve it and much worse. But I can’t let you do this.”

She arched an eyebrow, a hard laugh rumbling through her chest. “Appreciate the sentiment, but I’m pretty sure that ain’t up to you.”

He shook his head. “Let me have the bracelet. I understand its properties. I understand that I will die if I put it on. I am willing to do this.”

“You’re one chromosome and a sacred calling short of fitting the requirement.”

“Maybe, but I _have to try_.” He fell to his knees before her, tears brimming in his eyes. “You were right. About everything. I was… I am…” He shook his head. “What I’ve become. There is no making up for that, I know. _I know_. But if I didn’t at least try to take this from you…”

An odd combination of pity and grief hit her square in the chest, tangling hard with the anger that had kept her moving since leaving the Hyperion. Faith extended her bracelet-bearing wrist. “Fine then,” she said. “Have at it.”

Wesley swallowed and looked down at the thing. He turned it to find the clasp and began to tug.

Which, of course, accomplished nothing, as they’d both known it would.

“No,” he cried, tugging harder. “This is my mess. _Mine_. I can’t lose you too.”

“Wes…” Faith sighed and rolled her head back. “I was never yours to lose.”

“But—”

“Yeah, I thought something there for a while,” she said, trying to ignore the hard crack in her chest. “But you and me? We ain’t healthy. Never would be. And even if you hadn’t just nearly killed a girl I love like a sister, we got too much bad.”

“It wasn’t bad.”

“Wes, I literally kidnapped and tortured you once.”

“You’re not that person anymore.”

“No, I’m not,” Faith agreed softly. “But I also ain’t the girl you fucked last night. That girl thought that even with all the shit you’d been through, you were still better than me.” She shook her head. “You’re not. You got buyer’s remorse right now, but can you tell me you’d turn down the chance to stake the vamp who looks like the guy who killed your girlfriend?”

There was no response, and though she knew better, she couldn’t help but feel a rush of disappointment.

“I wanted to help you out of your dark place. But it turns out, I’m a sucky ass guide.”

“You were helping. I’d… I didn’t think I could feel like this for someone else so quickly—”

“But you don’t,” Faith deadpanned. “You don’t. And fucking with feelings ain’t really my thing anyway. Throw in all the daddy issues I got with the guy who was supposed to be my watcher? I ain’t Dr. Phil, but that’s fucked up.” She huffed out a laugh. “I’m gonna die, Wes. You can’t change that. Wanna make it up to me? Take whatever it is you think you feel and use it to forgive Morris. Otherwise none of the people you do love are ever gonna be safe again.”

A slow, sardonic clap sounded from somewhere behind Wesley. Faith went cold inside.

“That’s…just sweet.”

_Jesus, not this._

“Don’t you think it’s sweet, Lilah?”

“Nauseatingly,” the lawyer bitch from hell agreed, nodding at Angelus. “Mr. Pryce, I believe we have a deal to settle.”

Wesley rose to his feet, and even Faith could see how hard he was shaking. But when he spoke, there wasn’t any fear in his voice, only a dry, dead anger. “You…”

“Did you really think Wolfram and Hart would forgo an asset as valuable as yourself so easily?”

Angelus grinned, popping the kinks in his neck. “Here I was looking forward to storming the castle, saying hi to the old gang. Guess I could always swing by to show off the new necklace I’m going to make from your insides.”

Faith jumped to her feet, her heart in her throat. “I got one better,” she said to Wes in a low voice. “You get back to the white hats, and make sure they shove a soul so far up this motherfucker’s ass it can’t never get out again.”

“Spunky. I’d have preferred the younger slayer, for obvious reasons, but your power will do nicely. We have other ways of ending the slayer line.” Lilah chuckled and patted Angelus on the chest. “This one can’t be reensouled, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve learned never to underestimate Big Red.”

“As have I,” Lilah replied, still grinning. “At Wolfram and Hart, we learn from our mistakes. Which is why we took it upon ourselves to reensoul Angel.”

Faith’s eyes went so wide the air against them hurt. “What the fuck…”

“And then promptly subjected him to the Dementor’s Kiss.” Lilah wiped her hands. “The soul is gone, Ms. Lehane. Consumed and destroyed. Something we should have done years ago.” She tilted her head and looked back to Wesley. “While I’d love to bring back the more interesting version of Mr. Morris, Wolfram and Hart honors its contracts. But maybe we can play with his little wifey. And Buffy Summers? Well, it’ll either kill her or it won’t. Win-win for us.”

“No,” Wesley breathed. “God no.”

“Our alliances make us stronger, Mr. Pryce,” Lilah intoned. “Wolfram and Hart didn’t have Dementors on staff this time last year. As it turns out, there are other people in the world who are just as bloodthirsty as you are, and even more willing to make deals to secure their revenge. I prefer my men without a conscience. I believe you’ll be much more amendable after your date with a Dementor.”

“You are forgetting I’m human.”

“Ah, sorry, I’m not.” Lilah took a coy step forward. “Funny thing about books. Sometimes they embellish, take creative license. You see, Ms. Rowling had it wrong about what happens to a human after they tongue-wrestle a Dementor. Quite, quite wrong.”

“Wes,” Faith said, “get the fuck outta here. Right now.”

“He can’t, I’m afraid. He signed a contract.”

“This is boring.” Angelus took a few steps toward Faith, a hungry glint in his eyes. “You promised me a fight.”

Lilah waved a hand at Faith. “Do whatever you like with her. Just remember not to kill her.”

Angelus grinned. “I like it better when they wiggle, anyway.”

_“Lumos Solem!”_

A burst of bright sunshine split through the otherwise dark sky, engulfing Angelus in its rays. He recoiled on what had to be instinct, but the burning-to-death thing that typically occurred after vampires met daylight failed to follow.

“Well, that was certainly dramatic,” he said, holding up a hand where still sat the ring that had once belonged to Zack Morris. “All flash, no substance.”

“Fuck, I forgot about that,” came a familiar voice, and Faith didn’t know whether to be touched or annoyed as Gunn came to her left.

When Giles took the space at her right, she landed on touched.

“Mr. Potter,” Lilah said, the smile having faded from her voice. “My apologies for not recognizing you when you were in my office earlier. I must confess, even though I know better, I keep expecting you to look like Daniel Radcliffe.”

“I was under the impression he’d burst into flames,” Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“He has a ring crafted by Dumbledore himself that makes him impervious to sunlight…or anything, actually,” Giles explained. “If we want to kill him, we need to—”

“ _Accio_ ring!”

There was a roar and the unmistakable sound of flesh ripping, then something small and silver was zooming through the air at such speeds it was impossible to follow. Which made the fact that Harry caught it with ease all the more impressive.

“Do that,” Giles said, sounding a little thunderstruck.

Faith turned to look at Harry, and actually managed a laugh when he winked.

“Youngest Seeker in a century,” he said, though she didn’t know what that meant. “Rowling got a load wrong, sure, but she was on the bloody money about that. Now then. Where was I? Oh, right.” He pointed his wand at Angelus, a smirk kicking up the corner of his mouth. _“Lumos Solem!”_

That bright flash of sunlight pierced the night again, blinding her even though Faith was ready for it. She watched as the beam arced across the darkness, as it engulfed Angelus, whose skin immediately started smoking. But that was as far as it went—it smoked. It didn’t incinerate.

“You might be Harry Potter, but you can’t wield actual sunlight,” Lilah said with a smirk.

“I got at least one good slay left in me,” Faith said, rolling back her shoulders. She stuck her hand out toward Harry. “Gimme that thing.”

“What thing?”

“Your wand, moron.”

“You think I’m going to hand over my wand? You’re off your nutter.”

Faith rolled her eyes and glared at him. “You think _you_ have the upper-body strength to shove it in a man’s chest? Be my guest.”

Harry was wide-eyed and horrified, his instincts obviously at war with his need to do good. He reminded her so much of Buffy in that moment, Faith allowed herself a pang of regret that she hadn’t reached out to B while she was spreading out the touchy-feelies earlier. Sure, she and B would never be BFFs, but Buff had been a big part of her life.

“So I gather is you’re sayin’ we can kill this one,” an unfamiliar male voice shouted from somewhere behind Angelus, right before the air cracked with the unmistakable gunshot. And then Angelus was on the ground, on his knees, his face a mask of pain.

“Hufflepuff my ass,” the same voice said, which made precisely no sense.

“Dean, two-o’clock!”

Two more roars pierced the night, and two female vamps Faith didn’t recognize seemed to jump from the motherfucking shadows, fangs out, yellow eyes blazing. One was small, lithe, dark brown hair framing what might have once been a pretty face. The other was tall with curly honey-blonde hair spilling down her back.

“What the actual fuck?” Gunn roared, drawing out one of Wright’s mini-crossbows. “Who invited the vamp convention?”

“You didn’t think I wasn’t prepared for this, did you?” Lilah said.

“All right,” Faith muttered to Harry, raising her fists. “You can keep your wand.”


	24. Chapter 24

He inhaled deeply, not trusting that he’d heard right. The name that had blazed across the phone had nearly startled him out of his skin, because in the world of Zack Wright, the more you wanted something, the harder the universe worked to keep it out of your grasp.

But then it came again. Small, scared, but undoubtedly Rosalie fucking Wright.

“Dad?”

“Rosie.” He jumped to his feet so fast he became lightheaded. “Rosie, thank _fuck_. Where are you?”

“You haven’t called me Rosie since I was a kid.”

“You are a kid. You’re _my_ kid. Where are you? Tell me.”

“I’m with Nick. I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fucking fine. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through?” He dragged a hand down his face, chastising himself. “Did that fucker hurt you?”

“I-if you’re talking about Wes, no.” A pause. “He tried to kill me. I can’t believe he tried to kill me.”

“Don’t you worry. I’m gonna put him in the fucking ground. And then build a nice tower to keep you in until you’re sixty-five.”

“Dad—”

“And then I’m selling this fucking business and you, me, Cordy, and Kelly are moving to a remote island in the tropics.”

“Dad…”

Wright closed his eyes, his chest tightening. The harsh truths Giles had hit him with earlier rose back to the surface from the place he’d tried to bury them, along with all the things he’d known since Rosalie had become the Slayer. Things he’d done a decent job fooling himself about, ignoring the chirping voice that whispered reminders of everything he knew about Buffy and Faith. The dead certainty that her life would never be the same and the equal fervor to conquer the challenge. Rosalie had never had a chance of growing up normal—he’d denied her that when she was a child and tried hard to compensate for it since finding his home with Cordelia.

Rosalie knew how to handle herself. She had well before she’d had super strength. This he knew. She’d been surviving since she was a child, often on her own.

“Dad? Are you there?”

Wright released a long, shaky breath. “No tower,” he agreed thickly. “You’d just jump out anyway.”

“Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“No, kiddo. I know…” He swallowed. “I’m gonna worry. You can’t make me not. But they’re right. They’re all right. You need to not be here right now.” He released a long breath, his eyes stinging. “You know how much I love you, right?”

She made a small, pitiful sound. “Daddy…”

“You do. And I taught you how to fire a crossbow when you were five.” Wright paused. “Put Hunter on.”

There was nothing for a beat.

“I’m not gonna threaten him. Put him on.”

“Uh huh.”

There was the hint of muffled conversation, then someone breathed hard. “Mr. Wright?”

Wright honestly hadn’t known what he’d intended to say—only that it had seemed important to talk to the man who was now in charge of his daughter. The usual threats occurred to him, of course. The paternal part of him that would never accept anyone looking at Rosalie like she was anything other than a child, but he wasn’t an idiot, despite appearances, and more than that, he thought of the message Faith had left him. And how young _she’d_ been the night they’d nearly brought the Holiday Inn down.

“Stay close to her,” he said. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

A beat, and an audible swallow. “Yes sir.”

“Do you love her?”

Another beat. “Yes.”

“Are you…” God, he didn’t know if he could stomach this. “Are you _in_ love with her?”

Yet another beat, this one longer than the previous two. “I am.”

“You’d die for her?”

“In a heartbeat.”

“Then yeah, Nick. Stick to her. The only other person who could protect her better than her old man is someone who knows just how fucking special she is.” Wright decided he was being too nice. “But if you fucking hurt her, I promise between me, Spike, and my brother, they will never find your body.”

“I have no trouble believing that.”

“Good. Put my daughter back on.”

Another shuffle. He heard her familiar exhale of breath. “You threatened him, didn’t you?” Rosalie asked.

“Of course I did.”

“You promised you wouldn’t.” But there was no condemnation in her voice. “Dad…I’m sorry. For worrying you. For being the Slayer. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I’m your father. I’m going to worry whether or not you’re the Slayer.” Wright inhaled deeply. “I can’t lose you, kid. I just can’t. So you do your old man a favor and stay alive, okay?”

“I will.”

“Stay the _fuck_ alive. That’s all I want.”

She sniffed. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too. If it’s gonna be dangerous, don’t call, okay?” _But please call._ “Just stay alive.”

“You too. And Mom and Kelly. And everyone.” A pause, then the unmistakable sound of his daughter choking on a sob rang through the line and nearly ripped his heart out. “She did it for me, Dad. She…gave up her life for me. And I’ll never see her again.”

Rosalie didn’t need to clarify who _she_ was.

“She did it because she loves you,” he said. “So make it count, huh? For all of us.”

“I will,” she said hoarsely. “I will.”

*~*~*

At first, Zack thought the euphoric high he’d ridden since Kelly had said the words he’d waited a year to hear might have affected his senses. But there was no reason for that particular scent to be in the air. And when Kelly sucked in a deep breath, he knew she smelled it, too.

“It can’t be,” Kelly said.

“Mom!” Zack tore up the driveway to the front door, his dead heart squeezing. “Rosie? William?”

Though he knew what he would find when he opened the door, the sight of Slater standing in the entryway still startled him enough that his fangs descended.

“Hiya, pal,” the overstuffed jock said, a sick smile on his lips. “Long time.”

Kelly skidded to a stop behind Zack. “What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

“Boss lady sent me on an errand.” He spread his arms, the smile growing tighter. “If at first you don’t succeed, yadda yadda.”

“Where are my children?” Zack snarled.

“Oh, they’re fine.” Slater waved a hand, not taking his eyes off Zack. “Aren’t they, dear?”

The world seemed to freeze as a blonde Zack had very much hoped to never see again appeared in the doorway that led to the living room, cradling a baby to her chest. “Fine and more than,” Darla said, her dark eyes sparkling. She looked down at the child, who Zack realized was his niece, and scrunched up her face. “I could just _eat_ them up.”

Zack grabbed Kelly before she could lunge forward. He had not come this far just to lose her. He strained his ears instead, and almost sank to the ground in relief when four strong heartbeats echoed back at him.

“Seems you’re means to an end, Preppy,” Slater said, rubbing his hands together. “Wolfram and Hart honor their contracts. After you and that slut cheerleader made your getaway, Ms. Morgan decided a more direct approach was in order.”

“Personally,” Darla said, sauntering forward, her hands behind her back, “I am hoping you put up a fight. That little girl of yours has a smart tongue. Just give me a reason to bite it off.”

“Why the hell are you even here, Darla?” Zack demanded before he could stop himself. “You don’t like taking orders.”

“As you remember, I’m sure.” Darla spared a wink at Kelly. “Do you let him boss you around in bed? He tried it with me, but I had better uses for that mouth of his.”

Kelly snarled. “When I kill you, I’m going to take my time. Enjoy every second.”

“Ohh. Kitty has claws.” Darla just grinned and turned back to Zack. “As it turns out, Zacky, Wolfram and Hart is also means to an end. For me and Angelus. See, they made sure that the little friends who stuck your sorry soul back inside would never get the chance to do that with my boy again. We’re letting them think we’re playing nice for now. Until we get bored, at least. We’d be fools not to use their resources until they run out.” She raked her gaze up and down his body, making his balls shrivel. “You were such a fun plaything. It’s a shame they won’t let us make you interesting again.”

“I will stake myself before I let you take my soul,” Zack spat.

“Funny you should say that,” Slater said brightly. “Here’s how this goes. You come with us or Darla gets hungry.”

The blonde vampire rubbed her belly. “Hungrier. I did snack a bit on the old woman.”

Zack started forward without thinking, but then focused on the heartbeats in the house. Four of them. _Four._ He couldn’t charge forward now—not while Darla was holding his brother’s daughter.

“I go with you,” he said. “And you’ll just…walk away?”

Darla clutched the child tighter to her chest. “All four of us.”

“No. The baby stays here.”

“No, the baby is what we call _bait_.” Darla took an exaggerated whiff of Baby Kelly’s head. “Bait still works if I nibble on it a bit, right?”

“You come with us, someone you done wronged shoves a stake in your chest, and I get to watch.” Slater rocked on his heels. “Lilah said I could.”

“You are a twisted son of a bitch.”

“You say the nicest things.” He grinned. “We have a deal?”

Zack swallowed, his gaze glued to his niece’s soft, pink face. He should have known the rush of happiness he’d experienced in the car, at having Kelly back in the ways he’d missed her the most, couldn’t mean anything good. Good didn’t exist for guys like him.

“Deal.”

“Deal,” Kelly agreed, threading her fingers through his.

Wait, what? “Oh no—”

“Oh yes,” she replied defiantly, giving his hand a squeeze. “I meant what I said. I am not letting you go there on your own.”

Slater clapped his hands over his heart and gave an exaggerated pout. “Oooh, how _sweet_. I remember how sweet she is too, Preppy. Can’t imagine fucking her now, though. Too cold for my tastes.”

Zack snarled again but forced his gaze to his wife.

_The kids,_ he pleaded with his eyes. _You have to stay for them._

There was conflict in her gaze, but not the type that was strong enough to overpower the decision she’d made. He saw that clearly, and it terrified him.

It seemed they truly were in this together.

*~*~*

The graveyard was lit up like the fucking Fourth of July.

Dean had lost the bead on what was happening after shooting the ugly tall motherfucker in the back. Bursts of light that had to be spells seemed to spark off from every which corner and he didn’t even have the time to sit back and admire the show. Because every time he turned around, there were more baddies. Some with fangs and fucked-up foreheads, others with wands of their own. The cold bitch in charge was watching from the sidelines with a smirk he badly wanted to wipe off her face, and he had no idea which one of these chicks was Faith.

A smoking hot brunette performed a roundhouse kick that sent some poor fanged schmuck through three headstones at his right. A gaudy Elizabeth Taylor bracelet dangled on her wrist.

Okay, maybe she was Faith.

She met his eyes and something in his chest lurched.

“Duck,” she said.

Dean frowned. “Uhh, goose?”

She rolled her eyes and started running toward him at a pace that would put anyone to shame. And Dean stood frozen, his synapses firing but his brain unable to read them. Right before she reached him, she launched into the air and soared overhead, flipping with some Jackie Chan-type magic that was just plain unfair.

That was when Dean heard the snarl behind him. Apparently, some bloodsucker had been about to take out a bite. The Slayer seized the creep by the shoulders and began pounding his throat against the sharp edge of a gravestone. Once, twice, then the head popped off and the guy exploded in a cloud of dust.

“Dude,” Dean muttered, shaking his head.

The girl who had to be Faith whirled on him with one of those universal _you are an idiot_ looks. “Goose?” she shouted at him.

“What?” Sam said, whirling around from where he was engaged against two of the bloodsuckers—a chick with a really bad nineties perm and the other looking about two seconds from snapping his fingers off before—

_“Reducto!”_

—it also went sailing through the air, Harry freaking Potter chasing it.

“She said goose, not moose, you big idiot,” Dean shouted back.

“No, you said—who the fuck are you, anyway?” Faith whirled around in time to knock another approaching bloodsucker to the ground with a punch so strong he actually made a crater.

“Dean Winchester,” he said, turning around in time to clock yet another approaching vamp. “That’s my brother, Sam.”

“Any of this supposed to mean anything to me?” She snatched what looked to be a branch off the ground and ran at him again, but this time, Dean knew to duck. There was another explosion of dust, and she was on her feet again, looking, of all things, bored.

“We came to save you,” Dean said dumbly.

Faith met his eyes again, then snickered, and launched the stick she’d turned into a weapon into a perfect long pass across the cemetery. Dean watched in awe as it embedded itself in the back of one of the vamps fighting Gunn. Perfect freaking aim.

She was still snickering, then abruptly, she hissed out a cry that stole Dean’s wind, and fell to the ground.

The bracelet around her wrist was glowing.

“Shit!” Dean screamed, running over to her. “Need some help, here!”

But there was no one to help him. In the distance, he heard Harry yelling, _“Expelliarmus!”_ like it was his job, the snarls of vamps and the hard smacks of bodies colliding. And Faith had her hand around her wrist, her eyes now shiny with tears of pain. And he watched in horror as the glow began to spread up her skin. Like a cancer he could watch.

Faith looked up, meeting his gaze, and something else jolted through him.

“Kill me,” she said, nodding at the gun in his hand. “Do it. Do it now.”

Dean hesitated, swallowed. This was so not what he had signed up for.

“Do it!” Faith screamed, grabbing his hand with her free one and pressing her nozzle to her brow.

But something collided with him before his fingers could override the protests in his brain and do what he suspected _had_ to be done, though he had no idea why. A snarling vampire tackled him to the ground beside her, knocking the gun from his hand and snapping its fangs at his throat.

“Fuuuuuck!” Dean screamed, reaching for his fallen weapon.

_“Fuuuuuuck!”_ Faith screamed, and then she was absorbed in a flash of light so bright his retinas cried out in protest.

The vampire who had him straddled hissed and rolled over, covering its eyes. Dean seized the gun and fired into the bastard’s neck until the clip emptied, then stomped on the remaining tissue keeping it attached to its body. The sucker dissolved into dust, but it was too late—the blaze of light had blinked away, leaving nothing in the space Faith had just occupied but the thing that had been around her wrist.

The world around him fell to a standstill. Everyone was looking at where Faith had been.

Then the bitch lady yelled, “The bracelet!” and chaos exploded once more.

“ _Accio_ bracelet!” screamed Harry, and the hunk of metal went soaring through the air again.

*~*~*

As they made their way into St. George, Utah, Nick’s mind was still trying to process the exchange with Zack Wright. No one on Earth aside from Faith knew his true feelings for Rosalie and her father was at the bottom of the list of people he’d planned to tell.

_He used my real name._ He’d learned to live with _Brit Boy, Dumbass,_ and _Dumb Fuck_ for the last year. Twice Wright had referred to him by his surname when addressing others in his presence. It was the most trivial part of the conversation, but Nick couldn’t help but be warmed by knowing Wright knew his name.

The real pride came from hearing that he trusted him. Not that he had any options at the moment, but Wright seemed to realize that Nick did indeed recognize how fucking special Rosalie was.

“Stop time,” Rosalie said, jarring him from his internal musing.

He looked over to see she was pointing to the fueling station just up the road.

“If you wouldn’t drink so much soda your bladder wouldn’t fill as quickly.”

“If you didn’t say crap like that I would like you more,” she countered.

“Whatever,” he said turning into the lot and finding a spot near the door. Shuffling in his seat, he reached for his wallet and tossed it her direction. “Grab me a Red Bull.”

“I’m driving next,” she reminded as she hopped out the car.

As she went inside, he did his best to act nonchalant. Part of him wanted to stand outside the bathroom stall, but he knew her well enough to know she’d just get pissed. Instead he did a surveillance of the cars in the lot and the assortment of patrons he could see through the window panes. It all looked pretty innocuous, and decided to take a chance to study the atlas he’d purchased earlier in the day to determine how far they’d travel before he felt safe enough to rest.

He begrudgingly had to admit as Rosalie sauntered out of the station a few minutes later, she did look perkier than he felt. His adrenaline was quickly giving way to exhaustion whereas her conversation with her dad had given her an energy she hadn’t had since they’d left L.A.

He’d just opened the door and stepped out when he saw it. In a flash, her eyes rolled back in her head and her body went slack, crumpling to the ground.

“Rosalie!” he cried out racing to her, crouching down to gather her in his arms.

She blinked. Then slowly her eyes focused and they looked up at him with abject horror. “Nick.”

His heart stopped. He didn’t know why or how, but somehow he knew. Somehow he knew this was the moment he’d been dreading since he watched that damn woman walk out of the office hours ago.

“Nick, she…I saw…” He noticed that Rosalie was shaking uncontrollably. In some distant part of his mind he knew he needed to pick them up off the fuel station parking lot, but he couldn’t find the strength. Instead he simply pulled Rosalie closer and buried his face in her hair, trying to hold back the wail he wanted to release to the world.

Faith had done it. She’d saved Rosalie and the entire world. She’d finally proved to everyone what he’d know for a long ass time. She was a good woman, a helluva slayer and a downright badass.

But none of that mattered as the tears spilled down his cheeks. Because he’d just lost his best friend. In that moment, not even Rosalie wrapping her arms around him was enough to lessen the anguish.

Because he couldn’t comprehend never seeing his best mate again.

*~*~*

Willow felt like a caged tiger as she paced the floor. She honestly thought her feet had touched every square inch of the Hyperion foyer as she waited for someone to call or show up. “I hate this!” she exclaimed after her patience finally ran out.

“Me too,” a low voice agreed from behind. Turning she found Wright standing at the door to his office with an open bottle of Crown Royal in his hand.

“Well, that’s not helpful,” Willow muttered, but she found herself nonetheless making her way over to him and taking the bottle from his hand. Tipping it back to take a swig, she realized a new mom probably shouldn’t be hitting the hootch, but it didn’t stop her from swallowing.

“Thank God,” Sam said coming up behind her and taking the Crown from her hands to also take a gulp.

“I don’t remember the part where I offered to share,” Wright grumbled, taking back his bottle and throwing back another couple of healthy drinks.

“Oh!” Cordy chirped as she popped out of the kitchen. “Booze me!” She bee-lined to her husband and snatched the alcohol and took a shot.

“Great,” Wright muttered. “They’re all out dying or saving the world and we’re having a fucking pity party.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia agreed. “I’m just having a bit of a wig out. Can’t get Melody to answer the phone.”

“What?” The color drained from her husband’s face.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Mama Bear getting all overprotective like usual.” Cordy took another sip of Crown. “Because we both know Giles has more protections on that place than Fort Knox.”

“Thanks to me, he upped his warding just today,” Willow offered as comfort.

“Yeah,” Wright said unconvinced. “She’d not be dumb enough to open the door for anyone, right?”

“No!” Willow reassured. “I mean, not unless someone used a Polyjuice Potion to pretend they were someone she’s trusts. Or the Imperius Curse was used on someone we don’t know is inflicted. Or Zack or Kelly has had their souls removed again.” She looked up in horror at the others before snatching the bottle. “Oh just fuck me,” she mumbled before taking another drink.

“Yes,” Wright growled, taking his bottle and walking away. “Fuck you.”

“Thanks, Willow,” Cordelia deadpanned. “Let’s now talk about all the ways _your_ baby could be harmed.”

“Hey!” Sam snapped.

The front doors opened to a barrage of chaos. Harry, Giles, Gunn, Wesley and the Winchesters were a mess of dirt and blood. Their clothes were torn and singed and they were all talking and shouting in a manner that made nothing understandable.

Wright released a piercing whistle that brought everyone to a silent halt. “What. The. Fuck?”

Harry took a step forward, shaking his head. “It was a bloody battlefield. They had wizards and Dementors and vampires. It felt like being back at Hogwarts as a kid.”

Gunn looked to Wright. “Dude, Angelus was there. They destroyed his soul. No chance to bringing him back.”

“She was kicking ass and taking names,” Dean said, also sounding completely shell-shocked. “Then that fucking bracelet went off and she was on the ground…” He looked down at the floor. “I should of…but then this light swallowed her up and she was gone.”

“Harry had the bracelet for a time,” Giles said, walking over to Wright and taking the bottle of Crown in his hand. “But the Dementors swarmed and he had to use his Patronus.” The elder man tipped the bottle back and chugged.

“That bloody vampire took me from behind and snatched the bracelet,” Harry grumbled.

Willow’s heart squeezed as all her fears came to life. Not only had they killed a slayer, but Wolfram and Hart had assembled a magical army with some of the darkest creatures in all of existence.

Things went from bad to worse when she noted the look in Wright’s eyes. Before Harry or she had a chance to draw their wands, the man had closed the distance to Wesley and had him off the ground by the neck.

“You motherfucking son of a bitch,” Wright growled.

_“Protego!”_ Harry cried out.

The shield went up between the two men. Wright was pushed back as Wes tumbled to the ground in a pathetic heap.

“Why let the motherfucker live?” Wright roared as he turned his angry eyes to Willow.

Harry answered, “Same reason I told that other bloke who tried to murder him earlier.”

Wright paused in his tirade. “Who?”

“Nicholas,” Giles supplied.

Wright shook his head. “Fuck me for liking him more.”

“We’re better than that,” Harry snapped. “And no one is being murdered on my watch.”

“Well, then the Boy Who Lived better get the fuck out of my house because I am definitely not above killing the prick who fucking tried to fucking murder my daughter!”

Cordelia, who one would hope be a voice of reason, merely shrugged. “Seems about right.”

“Really?” Willow snapped at her. “So not helping.”

“Mama Bear ain’t here to help,” Cordy responded. “She’s here to fuck up whoever messes with her girls.” She gave Willow a pointed look. “You know what I’m talking about.”

Yeah she did. But Wesley hadn’t tried to murder Oz so she could think clearly. And friends thought clearly for friends when they could not think clearly themselves. “Still. No to the murdering.”

Before another round of protests could begin, a ringing cellphone hushed the room.

Wesley scrambled up off the ground and snatched a phone from his back pocket. “It’s…Lilah.”

Harry dropped his wand and the shield dropped unceremoniously.

“What does that bitch want?” Dean asked in anger.

“It’s…it’s a video call.” Wes looked confused but terrified.

“Answer it,” Wright growled as he walked up next to the man. “I have a few messages I’d like to deliver to her face.”

Willow walked in behind them to get a view of the screen.

“Hello, Mr. Pryce.” Lilah wore a smug look that made Willow’s stomach turn.

“What do you want?” he spat back.

“Many, many things. At the moment though, I believe we have a contract to complete.”

“Forget it.” Wesley shook his head. “We’re done.”

“No, we aren’t. Unfortunately the terms of our agreement state that until you fulfill your end of the bargain, we cannot gain access to the contents of the bracelet.”

Wright snatched the phone and stared Lilah in the eyes. “Then it looks like you motherfuckers lost twice. You didn’t get my daughter and you’re not getting Faith either, bitch.”

Lilah released a laugh that could only be pulled off by evil super villains. “Mr. Wright! How utterly perfect it is to see you!”

“Perfect is the moment I slit your throat.”

“Please do keep talking,” the lawyer replied. “It will make my reveal all the more satisfying.”

“Zack!” a voice shouted in the background.

Wright paused. “You have my brother.”

Lilah rolled her eyes. “Obviously. That was a key part of the contract. But we also have a little insurance policy.”

Wesley grabbed Wright’s arm and pulled the screen to face him. “What have you done?”

Lilah chuckled. “Remember that funny comment about not getting your daughter, Mr. Wright? Well, it was inaccurate.”

The phone panned away from the lawyer to two chairs across the room. One had Kelly Morris, rope bounding her by the wrists and ankles. The other held Zack, rocking a quiet baby in his arms. The man shook his head. “Slater tricked Mom into letting Darla into the house. Just come fucking kill me and they’ll let them go. I already signed an agreement.”

Well, Willow had to admit she hadn’t seen that one coming.

*~*~*

“Hello, Faith.”

Faith found herself in a clinical hall of white, doors with names and dates lining the walls as far as she could see. She whirled around to find a wavy brown-haired man standing before her in jeans and a George Michael concert tee.

“What the fuck?” She looked down to the wrist that had once held the bracelet. She vividly remembered the pain, but there wasn’t even a scratch where it had once been.

“Yeah, I took a little break from my vacation to oversee this one. Slayers are one of my favorites and you’re possibly the most fascinating one they ever chose.”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’ve always had a real soft spot for Buffy. She was the poster child for what it’s all about. But you?” He released a sigh and smile. “The redemption story arc has just been poetic. Almost biblical. Definitely Greek.”

She didn’t know who the fuck he was or where the fuck she was, but she did know she was about to punch a dude in the mouth.

He seemed to read her mind as he took a step back. “I love the passion, girlfriend. I really do. But trust me when I tell ya you don’t want to do that.”

“Let’s try it again then. Who the hell are you?”

“You’ve used my name a lot.” He paused a beat. “ _A lot_. Especially in the bedroom.”

“Your name is Harder?”

He gave her an appreciative smirk. “God. But you can call me Chuck.”

She took a step back. Maybe she wasn’t dead. Maybe she was in a coma and trapped again in her own mind. Her own crazy fucked-up mind. “Chuck?” Damn, her brain was lame with names.

“Long story. We’ll have a minute so you’re welcome to it. But I have a feeling you’d like a little preview of what you have to look forward to.”

The man stepped to the side and grabbed the knob of one of the doors. Faith looked up and saw the door bore her name along with her birthdate and the date she remembered seeing this morning on the phone.

“It’s subject to change, mind you. It evolves over time when the circumstances change. I added that feature about the third time Dean died.” He shrugged. “If it always stayed the same, he’d miss a few faces he’s met along the journey since the first time through.”

“Huh?”

“Bobby, Charlie, Ash… You know, the gang.”

She didn’t. “God actually rambles a helluva lot.”

He didn’t seem upset. “I get bored easily with the sound of other people’s voices.” He opened the door. “Suffice to say, don’t get attached. I’ll probably rearrange the furniture while you’re gone.”

Faith blinked. “I really ain’t following this you know.”

“Yeah, I know. Don’t get too comfy up hear, Faith. I’m not finished writing your story, yet. We just finished your origin story. Now get geared up for the second act.”


	25. Chapter 25

“No,” Harry said for what had to be the twelfth time in five minutes. Not that it did anything the other eleven _no’s_ hadn’t, mainly because the room around him had devolved into a screaming match.

Giles was gone. The bloke had scarpered soon after Wesley disconnected the phone, muttering a bunch of things under his breath. No one else seemed to have noticed his disappearance, though. Wright and Cordelia were arguing loudly with the Winchesters and Wesley. That Gunn fellow was staring hard at the floor, concentrating on something unseen. The governor was also quiet, but his eyes were moving in such a way Harry knew he was mulling things over.

Willow caught Harry’s eyes and nodded. “Do it,” she mouthed.

Harry tapped the end of his wand to his throat. “ _Sonorus_ ,” he muttered. Then yelled, “Everyone, shut the bloody hell up!” in a voice that boomed so loudly the walls of the place shook.

At last, a quiet—forced quiet, yes, but quiet nonetheless—fell over the foyer, and all eyes turned to him.

“Thank you,” Harry said, his voice still magically amplified. He flinched then tapped his throat again. “ _Quietus.”_

“What the hell was that supposed to accomplish aside from making our ears ring?” Dean snapped.

“Well, I’m not sure how you lot come up with plans, but as someone who’s made a bloody lot of them, I can tell you that screaming at each other accomplishes nothing.”

“There is nothing to plan,” Wright snarled. “Those bastards have my daughter.”

“Oh, so your way of winning is to give them exactly what they want, is that it?” Harry shook his head. “And your brother in the process?”

At that, the rage on Wright’s face dimmed just a bit. He swallowed and looked away. “I don’t like it, but if you’re asking me to choose between a brother I didn’t know I had two years ago and my baby girl, then yeah, I choose my baby girl. And Zack would do the same goddamn thing to me if it was either of his kids on the line, so don’t even try to fucking guilt me.”

Harry waved at Wesley without looking at him. He didn’t quite trust himself not to jinx the berk on principle. “They can’t do rubbish without him, can they? Which means as long as he’s here, we have a chance.”

“A chance to what?” Wright snapped.

“Figure out a way to get your kid and your brother back.” Harry glanced at Willow, then cast his gaze at the room itself. “The lot of you keep telling me who I am like I haven’t lived with it since I was eleven years old, so I’d think I wouldn’t have to spell it out for you, but I’ve done this before. Hermione, Ron, and I broke into the bloody Ministry of Magic. We robbed a bank that can’t be robbed. We defended Hogwarts and the Wizarding World from the most powerful dark wizard who ever lived. These things might be stories to you, but it’s _my life_.”

“Awesome,” Dean muttered. Sam elbowed him.

Harry decided the best response was no response. “All this to say, I’ve been told something is impossible a thousand bloody times and if I’d ever once listened, none of you would be here. So we’re going to talk like rational adults and figure out a plan that doesn’t involve handing these wankers exactly what it is that they want.”

“Blimey,” said a wonderfully familiar voice from behind him. “Been a while since I heard him give a speech like that. You guys must have really buggered up.”

Harry crashed headfirst with relief. He whirled around and grinned at Ron, who favored him with a crooked grin of his own. “’Bout time you showed up.”

“Sorry, mate.” Ron held the door open; Hermione and Donna came in, the latter cradling a familiar bundle. “Hermione wouldn’t Apparate with a baby in case of splinching, and this one’s been sick every five minutes so it was best we didn’t chance it.”

Willow and Sam Seaborn rushed forward at once, reclaiming their child. “I kind of hate you for bringing him into this,” Willow said to Donna, then looked away, likely remembering that they hadn’t parted ways on the best of terms. “But I’ve really missed my little guy.”

“Donna.” Sam reached out and squeezed the woman’s arm. “We’re going to get him back.”

Donna said nothing for a moment, her expression vacant. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know what that even means anymore.” She walked over toward the sofas that took up the lobby, apparently just trusting that the people who were in her away would move aside for her, which they did.

Harry didn’t have time to spare concern for the blonde. He was too happy to see Ron and Hermione. “Glad you made it,” he said, then turned to the rest of the group. “As I was saying, we’ve been in this situation before, the three of us. We can figure it out.”

“What are we figuring out?” Hermione asked, coming forward. “And…who are all these people?”

Dean and Giles opened their mouths simultaneously, but Harry cut in before they had a chance.

“Fans,” he said. “Bloody big fans.”

“Enough of this shit,” Wright snapped. “Look, I get it. You’re a hero back where you come from. Rah fucking rah. But this isn’t some heist. It’s my daughter. She’s not even a goddamned year old, so no, I won’t be trusting her safety in the hands of people I’ve only ever read about. Sorry. Wes got us into this mess.”

“And the way to get out is to let him gank your brother?” Dean fired back. “So all the bad guys in this scenario of yours win.”

“I’m not a bad guy,” Wes said, then flinched under the glare everyone aimed at him. But, to his credit, he didn’t back down. He swallowed. “I made a horrible mistake. A mistake I will live with for the rest of my life, however long or short that might be. Never… _never_ would I have endangered Rosalie or Faith or anyone at all. Had I known…”

“Well, goddamn, Wesley,” Cordelia snapped, her eyes brimming with tears, “but how the hell could you _not_ know? We’ve only been in business here for, what, ten years? Eleven? How long has Wolfram and Hart been trying to take us out? How many times have we seen them pull shit _exactly_ like what they just pulled on you? And I’m supposed to be okay with the fact that you endangered the life of not one, but two of my children because _you didn’t know_? Fuck. You.”

Wesley stared at her for a long moment.

Ron sidled up to Harry. “So. Been busy then, have you?”

“Long story,” Harry muttered.

“Did the nails ever get to that angel bloke?”

“Yeah. But we’re a bit past that.”

“You’re right,” Wesley said at last, his voice shaking. “You’re right, Cordelia. Faith was right, too. Everyone has been right.” He looked down. “I just hated him. I hated him so much, I couldn’t think or see or reason. One moment we were all set to kill him, and the next…he has a soul. And it doesn’t matter that he killed Fred. Nothing matters and all’s forgiven.”

Wright stalked over and, before Harry could think to raise his wand, clocked Wesley hard in the jaw. He held up his hand in Harry’s direction but didn’t look at him, kept his gaze on the man who had fallen to the floor at his feet.

“Forgiven?” he rasped as Wesley spat out blood. “You think it was easy for me to look at him after he violated my daughter? After he murdered Nikki and Fred? You think I haven’t thought of that, seen that, a thousand times a day since it happened?”

“Crikey,” Ron whispered. Hermione elbowed him.

“You don’t _forgive_ things like that.” Wright balled his hands into fists. “And fuck you for thinking you were the only one hurting after that. Fuck you for thinking we all didn’t lose something. But whatever Zack did, he did it without a soul. Something you’re supposed to have, right? So if he deserves death for what he did when he wasn’t in charge of his own goddamned body, what do you think it is _you_ deserve?”

“Look,” Dean said, crossing his arms, his voice shaking in such a way it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to launch back into the screaming match. “I know you guys don’t know us. Not really. And we don’t know you. But this isn’t exactly our first rodeo and even knowing nothing, I can damn well tell you that giving these sons of bitches exactly what they want isn’t gonna make things all honky dory.” He glared at Wright. “You really think that that evil bitch is gonna just let you walk out with your daughter just because this asswipe fulfills a contract? Really?”

“And what about Kelly?” Sam asked.

“Lilah said they’d use those invisible things,” Gunn muttered, speaking for the first time. “And Buffy. And that they can be used on people, too. Look at what happened with just one vamp without a soul who knew us. Anyone really want to chance they won’t make good on that? Why the hell wouldn’t they?”

“Dementors,” Harry explained to Ron and Hermione, the latter of whom he knew had already figured as much. “This evil law firm has all kinds of black magic. Dementors, dark wizards, vampires and who knows what else.”

“Harry,” Hermione said chidingly, “what on earth have you been up to?”

“Oh, the usual.”

“This hasn’t been the usual in nearly twenty years, mate,” Ron muttered. “Thought all that was behind us.”

Wright held up a hand, squeezing his eyes closed. He seemed to struggle with his words a moment, but finally opened his mouth. “I get it,” he said hoarsely. “I do. You all make good points.” A pause. “But I don’t fucking care. I’m sorry. I don’t. That’s not your daughter they have there. And I’m done.”

“Well, we just got here and we’re not,” Dean replied. “We don’t phone it in when innocent people are on the line. Fang-banger or not, Kelly’s solid. And whatever happened with this Zack guy sounds like it wasn’t on him, either. Neither of these people deserves to die. So yeah, I’m with the wizards on this. Costs nothing to listen to what they have to say.”

Wright exchanged a glance with Cordelia, who crossed her arms. “You have kids, Dean?” Wright asked.

“Right doesn’t stop being right just because there are kids involved.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. “But my daughter being involved makes me give less than two shits about what’s right.”

“I get that. I do. And whatever we come up with might be a big pile of shit,” Dean replied bluntly. “But we need to try.”

For a long moment, Wright said nothing. Then his shoulders dropped and he shook his head, taking a step back toward the office.

“You have an hour,” he said at last. “An hour to come up with something good enough to change my mind. If at the end of that hour you got shit, I’m going to drag Wes to Wolfram and Hart myself. You understand?”

Harry nodded. An hour wasn’t much, but he could work with it. It was better than nothing.

“Right,” Dean said as Wright led Cordelia away. “So what’s the plan?”

*~*~*

“I can’t get anyone to pick up,” Buffy groused as she sat back against the passenger seat, tossing her phone over her shoulder. A move she’d regret, no doubt, but at the moment, it felt good.

Not as good as some other things would feel right about now. A hot shower, for one. A nice, long nap. Spike with his head between her thighs. They hadn’t even had a chance to have their post-abduction-reunion sex, which honestly was the only point to let oneself get kidnapped.

He inhaled deeply, the corners of his kissable mouth kicking into a grin. “Naughty Slayer,” he said without taking his eyes off the road. “Best you stop thinkin’ whatever it is you’re thinkin’ till I’m in a state to do something about it.”

“Sorry,” she replied, not sorry at all. Well, a little sorry that they were in a moving vehicle and that she cared enough for what happened to the others on the road to keep from trying something dangerous. “I’m antsy.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And I’m pretty sure I reek.” She lifted her arm to sniff her pits, then wished she hadn’t. “How fair is it that I lose all the perks of being human but not the minuses?”

“Reckon we’ll need to stop here soon, anyway.”

“Why?”

“’Cause I haven’t slept since you and Zangy were vamp-napped and there’s no way I’m going to get any kip if you’re behind the wheel.”

“Hey!” Buffy shoved at his shoulder, but it was halfhearted at best. No amount of practice in the world could make her a reliable driver. Still, there was her pride. “I’ll have you know that I drove the demon-mobile across at least one state and managed to only put a couple of dings in it.”

“Right progress, that.” Spike reached for her hand without taking his eyes off the road and gave it a squeeze. “Do us a favor, though, love, and stop getting snatched. Dunno if my old heart can take another go round.”

Buffy squeezed back. “I don’t suppose there’s any point in pointing out that I was not a willing participant.”

“Play the hero often as you do and keep windin’ up in situations like this.”

“The alternative being I’m not being myself. I was supposed to just let Zack get himself kidnapped?”

Spike sighed, still not looking at her. “’Course not. One of the reasons I love you, innit? You can’t see a bloody damsel without wantin’ to rush in and save the day. Still, I about lost my sodding mind.”

“I know.” And she did. “I kinda lost mine, too. They didn’t expect to have more than one hostage and were unfortunately smart enough to see me as the bigger threat, so they chained me up with blessed metal and put an old Lecter mask on me.”

Spike’s jaw hardened and he squeezed her hand again. “And I was a tosser who’d decided the lot of us needed to go au naturale. Get in touch with our inner demons, Kum Ba Yah rubbish. Not cut out to be in charge, Slayer. Don’t bloody care where I fall in the family line—that’s not me and it never has been. Figure it might be good for us to start admitting it.”

Buffy let that sit for a moment, unsure where to take it. In truth, she felt the past year had been a series of missteps on both their parts. In the heat of the decisions, they had seemed like the right ones. It wasn’t like there was a guidebook out there for how to navigate immortality after one of your closest friends loses his soul, kills a bunch of people, kidnaps and rapes you. What Spike had said at the time about all of them not being particularly vamp-like in their thinking had made sense.

But now she could see the obvious—so clearly it actually pissed her off that she hadn’t seen it from the beginning.

They weren’t like other vampires. Never had been and never would be. Not even Spike, who was closer than any of them. He loved and felt deeply, and had changed as a result of it. Yes, their inner demons were still there and always would be, but they weren’t governed by them. And since there had never been a vampire family like theirs in the history of the world, it made little sense why they would attempt to fit the convention.

“I don’t want it to just be me,” she said at last. “Making the big choices.”

“And it won’t be. Happy to tell you when you’re wrong, love.” He grinned and tossed her a wink. “Knock you down a few pegs, keep you humble. But I’ve been followin’ you since the moment I saw you. Just not bloody natural havin’ it the other way around.” He detangled their hands to steady the steering wheel as he cranked down the window. “Time to check.”

Buffy watched, amused, as he stuck his head out the window and inhaled. “Still on the trail, Rex?”

“That we are.” He grinned as he rolled the window back up. “Almost too easy, this time around. Helps that the runaways are in a car I could pick out of a sodding lineup.”

“And Giles thought his plan was so foolproof.”

“Bloke’s been underestimatin’ me for goin’ on fifteen years, pet. Expect that’s one old dog that’ll never learn a new trick.”

*~*~*

The first five minutes of their allotted hour were devoted to bringing Ron and Hermione up to speed. Though they were a bit confused, they didn’t ask any questions beyond, “So how do we help?”

Later, Dean would find a way to sneak a request them for autographs. Right now, though, he needed his game face on.

“So who goes first?” Dean asked, rocking a bit on his heels. “What do we know?”

Willow, the redhead witch—because all witches were redheads, apparently—cleared her throat and laced her fingers with the Governor of California’s. “Wolfram and Hart want Sam to be president so they can control…well, the president. They have placed the Chief of Staff of the United States under the Imperius Curse, which essentially means he’s brain-jacked. Every action he’s taken over the past year _at least_ has been in service of Wolfram and Hart. Josh’s number one prerogative has been getting Sam elected and eliminating any obstacles that might make him unelectable. Namely, well, me.”

“Last year, Wolfram and Hart yanked out Zack’s soul,” Gunn said.

“That part we know,” Sam replied.

“I don’t,” Harry said. “Well, I know a bit, but not the whole of it.”

“Long story short—about ten years ago, Buffy was kidnapped by Wolfram and Hart as a welcoming present to Angelus, Darla, and Drusilla,” Willow said quickly. “Spike went undercover to get her back. He met Wright then, and they became really tight. There was a lawyer on the inside, Lindsey, who was working with Spike to help rescue Buffy. Angelus discovered this and decided to kill her. When Spike and Wright showed up, Wright…umm…” She went a bit red in the cheeks. “He shot Spike in the heart and forced his blood down Buffy’s throat. Since Buffy was the Slayer, she retained her soul, and became super-charged vampire lady with a major bone to pick with Wolfram and Hart. Wolfram and Hart decided to eliminate the threat by erasing everyone’s memories, replacing them with bogus memories, and hoping no one reunited. Buffy and Spike were able to break the curse, though, and became friends with Zack Morris…who is Wright’s younger half-brother. Then—”

“Hey, Red,” Gunn said. “You sure this is the short version?”

Dean snorted.

Willow leveled a glare at him, and wise man that he was, Gunn immediately mimed zipping his trap.

“Okay, to abridge this. Buffy has always been the exception to the Slayer rule—she had friends and family. When Wolfram and Hart took her and inadvertently turned her into a vampire, she became a triple threat. Add in alliances with Wright and the fact that she and Spike are kinda unstoppable together, Wolfram and Hart tried to keep everyone apart and miserable. When that didn’t work, they took Zack’s soul to destroy the group from the inside-out.” Willow hesitated, glanced at Wesley then away again. “Zack killed…a lot of people. Faith technically died for like a minute or so, which was long enough to call Wright’s daughter as the next Slayer. And he killed Wesley’s fiancé. Wolfram and Hart tried to keep me from getting to LA.”

Dean frowned. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m the only living witch who has ever reensouled a vampire. Kinda hard to do it at a distance, though.”

Dean blinked. “You…put the dude’s soul back in his body?” He glanced to his brother, who looked equally bewildered. “Lady, I coulda used you a few years back in a big ole way.”

“It worked,” Wes said sharply, his voice like a bomb in the room. “Zack’s soul was restored. But Fred was still dead and I wanted him to dust. So I went to Wolfram and Hart and made a deal. Rosalie’s power for Zack’s life.” He swallowed, the sound audible. “I was a fool.”

Dean shook his head, blinking. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. So this evil law firm that’s been all up in your asses for years ganks this dude’s soul. Dude kills your boyfriend—”

“Girlfriend,” Willow supplied softly.

Dean looked momentarily surprised, then shook his head again. “Whatever. And you go to the people who actually took out his soul and _made_ him do those things…for revenge?” He looked around. “Am I missing something here?”

“I was a fool,” Wesley said again, harder this time. “I was a bloody fool. And now Faith is gone and it’s all my fault.”

“Guys,” Sam Winchester said, holding up his hands. “Less recap, more plan.” He looked to Willow. “So we know for sure they want to destabilize the people who have been resisting them.”

“I’d say getting one of those people to turn traitor by aligning with _them_ and calling it revenge is a pretty good strategy,” Dean muttered.

“They also want Mr. Seaborn in the White House. And they have aligned themselves with dark wizards.” He glanced at Harry. “Could they…I honestly can’t believe I’m going to say these words…can they want Voldemort back?”

Ron flinched at the sound of the name.

“Dunno how they’d manage that,” Harry replied.

“Rowling might’ve given them an idea,” Hermione said, her eyes hardening. “That utter rubbish in her play.”

“ _The Cursed Child_ didn’t happen?”

“It was her attempt to get back into our world,” Hermione explained coolly. “You can tell from the writing. So sloppy. She thought she could provoke one of us into coming forward to refute her.”

“So…” Dean looked at Harry. “You don’t actually have a kid with the name Albus Severus? Thank fuck. Talk about issues.”

Harry slipped his hand into his pocket and curled his fist around his wand. “That part’s true.”

Ron snorted at Dean’s crestfallen face. “Git.”

“The main events from the seven books are accurate,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “She got small details wrong here and there and just changed others. But Harry, that stupid play involved time travel for the express purpose of bringing Voldemort back.”

The amusement on Ron’s face died abruptly. “Seriously, do we have to keep saying the name?”

“The time-turners were all destroyed,” Harry replied, ignoring Ron. “Believe me, after that bloody book came out I made damn sure there weren’t any out there in case an old Death Eater got any ideas.”

“Uhhh…” Dean raised his hand. “Hate to burst your bubbles, but time travel? You can do that without a fancy necklace.”

“That’s impossible,” said Hermione in her most assured I’m-right-you’re-wrong voice.

“It’s not,” Sam said. “We’ve…well, been there, done that.”

There was a long pause.

“Well,” Ron said at last. “That’s not terrifying at all, is it?”

“Sorry,” Gunn interjected, “but this is all speculation. They have wizards. We know that. We don’t know why, and we’re wastin’ time with this.” He held up a hand and starting counting off fingers. “They want Faith’s power. Wes is their ticket. They want the White House. So why don’t we just parade Seaborn in there like he’s all ready to jump on the campaign wagon?”

“No,” Willow said quickly.

Sam Seaborn frowned. “Wait, let’s talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. The answer is hell no.”

“Does seem a bit obvious,” Dean said. “They’d know something was up, wouldn’t they?”

“An exploratory meeting,” Sam Seaborn offered. “I could contact Josh, tell him that what I saw tonight makes me worry about the future of the country…which wouldn’t actually be so far off the mark. I’m willing to talk to Wolfram and Hart about these fears and see what their vision for the future is.”

“What is the point, though?” Willow demanded. “You go in to…what? How does this work?”

“We get more people inside to help fight on the way out,” Sam Winchester said. “Aside from saving the Morrises and the baby, shouldn’t we try to get that bracelet back too?”

Willow gestured at her child’s father. “And _Sam_ is supposed to help with that, how?”

“I would be offended, but she has a point,” Sam Seaborn said. “I… Well, my superpower is writing and I’m not sure how effective that would be.”

Hermione cleared her throat. “It sounds like what we need, then, is someone to look like Mr. Seaborn. Fortunately…”

Dean’s face lit up. “Oh _hell_ yes.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

“You got that juice stuff, don’t you?”

“Polyjuice Potion,” Ron muttered.

“Right, that’s what I said.” Dean beamed. “I am so in.”

“Dean,” Sam said softly, “it should probably be someone who, you know, _knows_ the governor.”

“You never let me have any fun.”

Sam Seaborn blinked, looking from Dean to Hermione then to Willow. “I’m sorry, I… What is this…juice stuff?”

“A potion that can make someone look like someone else,” Willow said. “And I’ll do it.”

“No—”

“It makes the most sense,” Harry said. “Willow knows you better than anyone. It’d be better to have someone who can use magic on the inside, anyway.” He paused, then turned to Hermione. “How much do you have?”

She favored him with a dubious look. “Harry, ever since the Second Wizarding War, I always carry enough to… Well, just in case anything was amiss. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Ron slung an arm around her shoulder. “I definitely married up.”

The entire room echoed a resounding, “Yes,” which made the smug look on Ron’s face fade into a scowl.

“Then we should use as much as possible to get as many of us on the inside as we can.” Harry turned to Sam Seaborn. “Set up a meeting with your mate. Donna can come with you, say she talked you into it. We nab Lyman and I can take his face. We get inside and Willow and I can try and find that bracelet.”

“No. That puts Willow in way too much danger.”

“Willow’s going to be in danger either way,” Willow replied dryly. “I can fight my way out just fine.”

“I can go in, too,” Ron offered. “As that Wright bloke. Drag in Wes like he said.”

“Wright will want to go on his own,” Gunn pointed out.

“Well, like Harry said, makes more sense if it’s one of us there. We can blast our way out.”

“I am so not sitting on the sidelines for this,” Dean said. “Might not have a fancy wand, but dammit, I’m in this fight.”

“Me too,” his brother agreed.

Harry and Willow exchanged a glance.

“Right,” Harry said at length. “My Invisibility Cloak.”

Dean straightened, his eyes sparking with interest. “Yeah?”

“Would have to be you. Your brother’s too bloody tall.”

“I am so in.”

Sam Winchester opened his mouth to argue, but Willow cut him off. “You can be there too. Backup. Pose as a new client or something. We can find something here that’s cursed or whatever.”

“We got plenty of that, ourselves,” Dean noted.

“That Lilah person saw my face tonight,” Sam cut in.

“Yeah, but did she get a real good look?” Dean asked. “It was fucking chaos.”

“I can Transfigure you,” Hermione said. “Simple spell, really. Then we’ll have the two of you, Harry, Ron, and Willow on the inside.” She favored Willow with a soft smile. “I will set up wards here. The current level of protection can really use an upgrade.”

“And you can protect Sam,” Willow said.

“Of course.”

Sam Seaborn sighed, rolling back his head. “Can I just say how much I don’t like this plan? So much can go wrong.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to the life,” Dean said. He turned to Harry with a large grin. “When can I try on that cloak?”


	26. Chapter 26

It was funny how just a few hours ago she was the one needing rescuing. Now as she drove along the dark rocky desert highway of Utah, she was the one taking charge of the situation.

Really it wasn’t funny at all.

It probably said more about how fucked up she was that Rosalie had been the first one to recover in the parking lot. She’d seen a lot of death in person and through her visions: her mom and brother, Nikki, Fred And now Faith. And while the last was certainly the freshest, the ball of light that had absorbed Faith into nothing had also been the least violent. There was a dead body to remain forever burned into her mind.

It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. In some ways it hurt the most because a part of her knew that end was meant for her. Rosalie’s head hadn’t stopped throbbing with pain and resentment that Faith had taken the decision out of her hands.

With a defeated sigh, she glanced over to watch her Watcher. She’d lost radio signal with Nick back in the gas station parking lot and he hadn’t muttered a word since she pulled him off the ground and tossed him in the passenger seat.

She couldn’t make out much as he stared blankly ahead. They were in a stretch of nothingness so the limited moonlight wasn’t a help.

A pang of homesickness hit her in the chest. She remembered all the late nights her dad had pulled the truck over and let her practice behind the wheel on roads similar to this. Maybe even in Utah. She couldn’t remember now. All she remembered was how much she loved it when he would give her lessons. Driving, shooting a crossbow or even sighting a sniper rifle.

Yeah, she was definitely a fucked up woman she mused. But she wouldn’t trade a moment with her dad for the world.

Relief hit her when she saw a road sign informing her there was civilization up ahead. They could choose Cedar City or drive on to Zion National Park. Rosalie was going to stop somewhere and find a shower and a bed.

She knew they weren’t too far from where she’d last used the phone, but there were plenty of factors in their favor. Foremost was the fact that Wolfram and Hart probably didn’t know they left town. Even if any corrupted people were in the gang, they may assume that Nick and she were simply waiting at his apartment or somewhere close by to come in and be ready to attack.

If they had somehow thought to tap her cell, they would start in St. George. While not the size L.A., it definitely wasn’t a Mayberry. After taking the time to drive to Utah, they’d want to search the dozens of hotels there before moving on.

So that bought them time. And a chance to sleep. Which was currently her number one priority.

Awkwardly silent they rode down the road until reaching Cedar City. She braced herself for an argument as she picked a boring looking hotel advertising nothing flashy or special. It did have a continental breakfast, which made Rosalie’s mouth salivate with anticipation.

She was disappointed. Nick didn’t even turn to give her a skeptical glance. He remained motionless as they pulled up to the door. “Hey buddy,” she said overly sweet. “I don’t have an ID so this is the point where you come into play.” Nothing. “There’s a comfy bed in there just itching for your butt to get on it. And there’s a waffle in there with my name on it in a few hours.”

He held out his hand. “Wallet,” was the first word he spoke.

Shuffling in the seat, she retrieved it from her sweatpants and handed it to him. Then, he simply got out the car and walked inside.

“Worst road trip ever,” Rosalie muttered to herself as she flopped back and rested her head against the seat.

*~*~*

All of those heading out on the rescue mission had formed a circle and began discussing the logistics and details of the plan. Sam rocked baby Oz in his arms, pacing back and forth. He wasn’t listening as well as he should because he kept focusing between the little warm bundle in his arms and memories he hadn’t expected to relive.

“Willow?” He finally decided that he was just going to have to interrupt before she left. He needed to tell her something that would hopefully ease both their minds.

She turned around and first looked to Oz. “Is he okay? Is he hungry? Please tell me you can change a diaper.”

He frowned at her. “Can I talk to you?”

“I don’t have time to teach you how to change a diaper now.”

“I can change a damn diaper!” he snapped. He immediately regretted it when her eyes grew wide and hurt. “Sorry, just tired and tense.”

Her expression soften. “Yeah. Apocalypses suck.”

He gave a humorless chuckle before gesture his head to a quiet corner. “Just a minute please.”

Nodding she turned back to the group who had stopped talking. “Five minute sanity break guys.” Then, she followed Sam away from the others.

“Look,” Sam began, pausing briefly as Willow snatched Oz and cradled him against her chest. “With all of the crazy shit I’ve seen today and all the crazy shit I remember from last year, none of it terrorizes me like what I remember from a few years back.”

“If you’re talking about that one night with the skating rink and never ending night, I’m pretty sure that was some drug-related hallucination.”

“I’m not, but…I have some questions about that I wouldn’t mind asking you about later.” He shook his head and focused. “Not sure how much you paid attention back in the day, but after President Bartlet started his second term there was a kidnapping. His daughter Zoey was taken by terrorists who were against some things her dad had authorized. Seeing Zack Wright tonight struggling with the same dilemmas that caused the president to temporarily resign from office…”

Saying it was harder than he thought. He swallowed back his regrets. “I’m not going to run for president.”

Willow gave him a look he couldn’t decider. “Because Wolfram and Hart?”

“Yes! Because them and because…they’re always going to have a vendetta against you. They know you’re probably their biggest threat. They just want me because they think they could use me. If I don’t run, they don’t get the option.”

“That’s stupid.”

He gave her a pointed look. “Stupid?”

“Yes, Sam. Stupid.” She huffed and switched Iz to her other arm. “I’ve watched you this past year. The way you worked to completely overhaul the education system in California. The global climate initiative you got forty-two governors to agree to in a bipartisan effort to work toward renewable energy systems along with thirteen countries. You went before Congress to testify on behalf of gun control and the opioid crisis and have worked to bring down deaths from both in California with comprehensive background checks and a healthcare system which makes it easier for addicts to get help and counseling.”

“Wow.” He was in shock that she really had followed his career. “When you say it, it sounds pretty cool.”

“But you want to sacrifice all that. All that good. All that amazing. Sacrifice it and let one greedy law firm win. Let them find some shmuck that may not only work to undo all that good, but may bring on the next apocalypse because he’d be willing to do whatever it takes to get his moment of glory. Maybe we could go to war with China or England or the entire magical world. Let’s nuke Afghanistan and Hogwarts and Euro Disney.”

“Let’s be honest, I could nuke Euro Disney and nobody would notice.”

“Not the point, Samuel!”

He grimaced. “Don’t do that. You sound like my mother.”

She sighed and handed him back Oz after giving the baby a kiss on the forehead. She then leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. “Let’s just agree to postpone any life altering career decisions for either of us until this is over and we’ve both had about twenty hours of sleep.”

He gave her a small smile. “You’re a pretty good negotiator you know. Have you ever considered getting into politics?”

“Magic and demons always made more sense to me.”

“Honestly, I’m kinda starting to get it.”

*~*~*

Crossing the threshold into his own home shouldn’t come with such dread and trepidation. When Zack had explained how Wolfram and Hart had devised their plan to steal baby Kelly, he knew that Melody wouldn’t have let it happen without a fight. He also knew that Melody would be bloody worthless in a fight.

He had just shut the door when a dagger went flying past his head, landing squarely in the wood trim of the doorframe. “Hey!” he cried in fear and annoyance. “That’s my head and my bloody wall!”

He was nearly knocked over as a force barreled into him. Rosie had ran over and locked her arms around his waist, burying her face in his stomach. “Papa!” she called out, muffled by the fact her nose was burrowed in his shirt.

“Rosie, love. Please tell me you’re okay.”

She pulled her head up to look at him. “Yes.”

“Where’s your brother? Nana?”

Rosie shook her head with disgust, still refusing to lessen her hold on him. “I told her she was being silly. I knew you’d come to save us.”

He didn’t follow. “What?”

“She called an ambulance. She said that she wasn’t going to die waiting for you to remember she existed while you searched for Aunt Buffy.”

His heart dropped. She was right. He should have checked in, but had been to concerned with Buffy. And Rosalie. And Faith. He was an ass.

“Where’s William?” he questioned.

She released him from her grasp and took a couple steps back. The look in her face was absolute guilt.

“Rosie Morris, What did you do?”

“I had to, Papa. Trust me. He kept crying and saying he was going to go with Nana. Uncle Spike said never go with a stranger, even if they act like an authority figure.”

“Uncle Spike can be a right git,” Giles grumbled. Then he remembered there was a group of dark wizards roaming the streets of Los Angeles and he reconsidered. “Though he does make a point.” He gave the girl a stern look. “Where is your brother?”

“I locked him in the closet.”

“What?” he snapped.

“Not the real closet with all the books and weapons! The one with the shoes and coats and stuff.”

Giles swore he was looking at a shorter version of Zack Morris as his daughter tried to justify why locking a kid up was a good idea.

“Bloody hell” the man responded as he made his way to Rosie’s idea of a fake closet. Moving aside the chair she’d used to wedge the door closed, he opened it to find a little boy looking up at him with shining eyes and a brilliant smile.

“Papa!”

Reaching down he scooped up the child, hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek with relief. “Are you okay, son?”

“Rosie was mean, Papa.”

“Yes, well, she was just doing a piss poor job of protecting you.” He gave the pouting girl a look before amending himself. “You did a good job, but next time let’s not go straight to imprisonment, okay?”

“Whatever. It worked.”

He released a heavy sigh. These two kids didn’t have a chance.

*~*~*

Flopping on the bed, Nick didn’t even bother removing his shoes. He closed his eyes and tried to wish the world away.

He heard Rosalie move about the room before heading into the bathroom. The faucet ran for several minutes after the toilet flushed and he guessed she was washing her face.

Hating himself he opened his eyes to look at the ugly cream-colored ceiling. He was supposed to be the one in control of the situation and protecting and comforting and being emotionally strong. Instead he was crippled by grief in such a way he just felt weak and useless.

This was about the time Faith would be kicking his ass and telling him to get his shit together.

But this time he was alone.

When he heard the door open, he squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t stand to see how pathetic he was in Rosalie’s eyes tonight. His heart was already broken and one more hit may actually kill him.

He jerked back in surprise when he felt her pull off his shoe. He knew what was coming when she removed the other. He kept his eyes closed, but saw the light behind his lids disappear as he heard her shut off the light. He sighed softly as he tried to will himself to just go to sleep.

He’d gotten them a room with double beds because as fucked up as he was at the moment he had no intentions on leaving her alone. As he heard the blanket on the other bed shuffle he took solace in the fact she was safe.

Then he felt his own bed move. Opening his eyes he saw Rosalie splay the blanket across him before crawling underneath and grabbing his arm. She wiggled next to him, taking his arm and resting her neck in the crook of his shoulder as she faced his chest.

Well, this suddenly became a different kind of awkward.

“Ro?” he hoarsely whispered.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek before settling down in her previous position.

“Rosalie?”

“Just shut up and hold me, Nick.”

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

Faith would be laughing her fucking ass off if she could see he’d finally got Rosalie Wright to sleep with him.

*~*~*

“Zack.” Buffy met Spike’s eyes over the hotel table. The phone sat between them, speaker function activated. “Thank god. We’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

“Have you found her?” came the blunt reply.

“We’re still on the trail. Had to stop. Spike hasn’t gotten any sleep since Natchez and I’m not far behind him.”

“So you decided to call me at four in the goddamn morning?”

“Easy there, mate,” Spike said, glaring at the phone. “Like the lady said, we’ve been callin’ here for hours. She’s a soft touch and worries when you don’t answer.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “You were worried too.”

Wright released a long breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. “Yeah, well, I’ve been preoccupied.”

Oh god. What had happened now?

“What’s goin’ on?” Spike demanded.

There was a pause, then Wright began to speak again, and Buffy’s heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach as he shared the events that had lapsed since they’d left in pursuit of his daughter. His words grew increasingly slurred from anger or lack of sleep or fear, or more likely all three. By the end, he was barely audible.

“We’ll come back,” Buffy said at once, looking to Spike in time to see him nod his agreement. “We’ll—”

“No,” Zack choked out. “No. I need you two to stay on Rosalie. She only has Hunter right now. Kelly has all of us. And there’s a plan.” A pause. “A plan that’s crazy, but…fuck, with Willow and the cast of Harry Potter here, I don’t know that there’s anything else you could do, anyway.”

“Tear the sodding place down,” Spike offered. “Brick by brick. Shoulda done that from the start. Ever since…” He looked to Buffy again and swallowed. “Coulda used that Lindsey bloke when we had the chance.”

“The law firm is just a building,” she said, rubbing her arms. “The Senior Partners…whoever is in charge there… There has to be a way to take them out.”

“We’ll do that after my daughter is back in her cradle.” Wright broke off again, his voice thick. “They want my kids. All of them and fuck it, I am not losing another. Hunter will give his life to save Rosalie, but being that he isn’t superhuman, that’s only a little comforting. I need people who can protect her. Don’t come back.”

Spike nodded, his jaw tight. “Right. Don’t s’pose you’ve learned anythin’ about this spell Rupert used that might speed things up a bit?”

“No.” A pause. “No, but Rosalie called me earlier—before all this. Cell phones are traceable, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. And that might just be enough to break the spell,” Buffy said. “Giles said the only people who could break it were Nick and Rosie. Maybe she broke it.”

“Not sure if I want you to be right or not.” Wright sighed. “I’ll talk to Willow. See if she can work her magic. And Buffy—if you do find them, stay the fuck away from LA. I think Giles and Faith were right. Much as I hate to admit it.”

“How is Faith? Have you had a chance to make any headway on the bracelet?”

Another silence, but this one had an answer inside of it. Buffy blinked harshly at the sudden up-swell of emotion, her eyes burning. The pressure in her chest tightened and she bit into her hand before the sob building there could escape.

“Slayer,” Spike muttered, covering her free hand with his.

“I’m sorry,” Wright replied. “I…I’ve been so focused on Kelly that I…”

“No,” Buffy said, wiping at her eyes. “That’s okay. I get it.”

“I forgot you two were friends.”

“We weren’t,” she blurted, another swell of emotion squeezing her insides. “We weren’t. But we were sisters.”

That was the most she could get out before grief slammed into her like a freight train. She stood and charged to the bathroom as Spike made his hasty goodbyes. She didn’t know what her objective was, except to put as much space between her and the phone as possible. As though it was the source of grief.

Buffy braced her hands on either side of the sink and released the first of what felt like an army of hard sobs. She dug her fingers into the porcelain as her body seized and shook.

Strong arms encircled her waist and pulled her against an equally strong chest. Spike pressed his mouth to the hollow of her throat and nipped lightly. For a moment, she thought he’d say something, but then realized that was dumb. Spike knew her intuitively, knew when she wanted to hear words and when she didn’t. He also probably understood her confusion, too. From the beginning, he’d seemed capable of reading her better than anyone, and that had only become truer as the years had passed.

“I don’t even know why it hit me this hard,” she said at last. “It’s not like it came from nowhere.”

Spike hooked his chin over her shoulder. “It’s like you said, love. She was your sister. Might notta liked her all that much, but you loved her.”

“She was the first person who made me feel like being the Slayer was something more than a burden.” Buffy barked a shrill laugh, feeling slightly insane. “Granted, that didn’t end well but…that feeling was a good one. She made me want to have fun.”

And she wouldn’t have known Faith had Drusilla not killed Kendra. The no-nonsense slayer that Buffy had known the year she’d first met Angelus. God, she hadn’t thought about Kendra in a long time. Faith had managed to keep alive longer than any of them. After a while, she’d started to seem invincible.

“Love, come to bed.” He tugged her back. “I’m sorry, but we gotta keep focused if we’re gonna help Zangy. Not gonna let another slayer kick it on my watch.”

Buffy barked a shrill laugh and twisted in his arms. “Things I bet you’d never thought you’d say.”

The smile she’d expected didn’t surface. If anything, he appeared concerned. And the next second, she knew why. Over the years, they hadn’t talked much about Spike’s past before he’d come to Sunnydale—it was only ever important when whatever they were facing related to something he’d known or experienced back then. Talk of his history of putting slayers in the ground was something they’d mutually deemed off-limits at some point. And sometimes, it was too easy to forget that before she’d been called, Spike had caused other people to feel this sort of pain. That he’d hunted out slayers for the thrill of it. Considered them trophies.

That in another life, perhaps he might have been the one to kill Faith. Or Rosalie. Or her.

“You wanna slug me?” he asked, the question small but ringing with sincerity. “Won’t fight it.”

“I’m not going to hit you.”

“Yeah, but you might feel better.” He rolled his head back, fixing his eyes briefly on the ceiling before looking back at her. “I don’t regret any of it, you know. It’s not who I am now but it… Slayer, it brought me to you. Wouldn’t undo it and risk not bein’ here. Too bloody selfish for that. Don’t blame you if you hate me a little because of it.”

Buffy cupped his face and raised herself up to press a kiss against his mouth. “I don’t hate you. I…hate what you did. I hate that you might be right and I hate that people died. I hate that and I will always hate that. But I love you. Nothing will change that.”

Spike nodded, trembling, his brow pressed against hers. “Get some rest, then. Gotta save our girl.”

“You, too. You’re the driver-slash-bloodhound.”

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I intend to.”

*~*~*

“You know you’re supposed to sleep when they sleep,” Wright muttered as he stalked into the Hyperion lobby, running a hand through his hair and looking about as wiped out as Willow felt. “So far Oz seems to be annoyingly low-maintenance.”

Willow arched an eyebrow and leaned back into the seat she’d claimed. “Annoyingly low-maintenance?”

“Rosalie was colicky as fuck. We didn’t have much money and were pretty much zombies for the first year or so.”

“And what about Kelly?”

“Not colicky, but not above waking us up every few hours.” Wright paused when he reached her and tossed her something. A cell phone. “Rosalie called me on that. Don’t know if there’s a way to use that or not and find her, but—”

“Ohh, there is!” Willow broke out into a wide smile. “Both magic-wise and hacker-wise. I might be able to find out which cell towers this thing pinged off and use that as a basic point of reference for a location spell. But I need something of hers. Do you have anything you know she’s bled on?”

“I do,” came another voice—Cordelia as she navigated her way down the stairs. She looked only marginally more rested than Wright. “It’s—ahh. Well, it’s menstrual blood. She had a leakage issue and stained her bedsheets last week.”

Wright pulled a face. “I do not need to know that.”

“It’s perhaps the most normal kind of bleeding she’s ever done, but whatever,” Cordelia replied, rolling her eyes. “And this is why she doesn’t talk to you about these things.”

“Good. I wanna keep it that way. That’s why I married you.”

Cordelia snickered before turning her tired eyes on Willow. “It’s in the pile of laundry I’ve been meaning to do. Or, more accurately, make Rosalie do. Will that work?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Willow held up Wright’s phone. “I need a computer to do the hackery stuff. In your office?”

“By all means.”

A few minutes later, Willow was hunched over Wright’s laptop, fingers flying over the keyboard with familiar ease. As much as she loved magic, there were times she really missed this—a world less complicated based on zeros and ones. In her line of work, she didn’t get much chance to play with technology, so her time outside of Hogwarts was typically spent bingeing on all the advancements she’d missed.

“Seriously,” Wright said, his arms crossed, his broad body reclined against the doorframe, “why are you awake?”

“I never sleep well before a big plan day, so I gave myself a magical boost.” Willow didn’t even bother looking up from the screen. “Harry’s the same way, though my magical methods don’t work on him.”

“Huh? Why not?”

“Because our magic is fundamentally different,” Willow explained, still staring at the screen. “One of the things being researched by the Ministry of Magic, actually. If I picked up a wand, it’d do nothing for me. My magic is more…instinctual. There are spells and stuff that I’ve learned, but sometimes it just flows out of me. Something about being a Muggle who kinda hijacked her way into the magical community rather than being recognized as a witch from birth. Ooh, jackpot.”

Wright and Cordelia both straightened.

“You find her?”

“Found the cell tower where the call pinged. And…damn, they made good time.” Willow glanced to Cordelia. “Got the bloody sheet?”

“In the hamper,” Cordelia said, then turned and disappeared into the lobby again.

Willow leaned back, blowing out a long breath, and looked to Wright again. “I know Hermione keeps a potion on hand to help aid with insomnia. You both should consider taking it.”

“Not until my baby girl is back home.” Wright shook his head. “I still can’t believe I agreed to this crazy plan.”

“It’s not crazy.”

“Wolfram and Hart have been a step ahead of us for years. You really don’t think they’ll have thought we’d mount up a rescue?”

“I definitely think they will have thought of it, but they can’t know how, or how many people are going to be involved.” She paused. “Zack, there is no guarantee they’d even give over Kelly even if we played this the way they want. When have they ever just handed over that sort of leverage?”

“If it was Oz—”

“If it was Oz, I’d be ready to sacrifice anyone in a heartbeat. But that doesn’t mean it’d be right.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, though he looked less perturbed than he had a moment ago.

Cordelia burst back into the office then, her arms full of bedding. “All right,” she said, bouncing the material slightly in her arms, “where do we want this?”

*~*~*

Morning broke over Los Angeles in an annoyingly mundane fashion. Like several people’s lives weren’t depending upon what happened over the next few hours.

Willow gave Donna a nervous side-eye as she strolled back in from the courtyard, lowering her cellphone to her side. They hadn’t had much chance to talk since she’d arrived, and if Willow were being honest with herself, part of that was intended. The fact that Josh was under the Imperius Curse didn’t excuse the fact that Willow had shared something with him that she’d had no right to share. She wasn’t sure if her relationship with the blonde would ever recover from that breach of trust.

The thought made her heart ache, but she couldn’t undo what she’d done. All she could do was follow Donna’s lead and let her determine whether or not she was worthy of forgiveness.

“He’ll meet us both at a place called Center City Grill for lunch,” Donna announced, looking to Sam. “He sounds…like himself. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t that.”

“What did you tell him about me?” Sam asked.

“What you said—that you’re concerned about the state of supernatural affairs within the country. You have a child to raise now and knowing that all of this”—Donna waved broadly—“can happen at any time scares you stupid. That…” She glanced at Willow before quickly looking away. “That even places that are super secure aren’t impenetrable. Mr. Giles had all kinds of protection on his home, but they managed to kidnap a baby anyway. And that their resources might be better suited to protect Oz than… Well, anything else.”

“You think he bought it?” Dean Winchester asked, his arms crossed.

Donna pressed her lips together. “I don’t know. I… I thought I could read Josh better than anyone.”

“They want this to work.” Harry looked to Sam. “Odds are he’ll try to slip you some of that Amortentia, too. Just to be safe. I’ll be under the cloak the whole time, so I should be able to keep your glass filled with regular water.”

Dean frowned. “How?”

His brother answered, “Aguamenti, right? That’s the spell?”

Dean stared at him for a moment, then rolled his eyes and shook his head. “God, you are such a dork.”

“Who was going on about getting Fleur Delacour’s phone number all last night?” Sam shot back.

Ron scowled. “You know that she’s my sister-in-law, right?”

“Not like that stopped you from ogling her,” Hermione muttered under her breath.

“Also, she doesn’t have a phone,” Harry said. “But yeah, that’s the spell for water. And I can Confound him if he gets suspicious about anything before we have a chance to do the swap.”

“One more time,” Sam Seaborn said. “We’re going to be business as usual.”

“Until he gets up to go to the loo. Then I’ll stun him and take his place.” Harry held up the shimmering, liquid-like fabric that was his Invisibility Cloak. “Throw this over him. Ron’ll be outside by a car, disguised as Mr. Wright. You two will have a row that’s convincing for any onlookers about Sam’s allegiance changing. Ron, you’ll have to really manhandle him, try to shove him in the car. Willow will take the potion and climb back out as Sam. Then we go to Wolfram and Hart together.” He turned to Wright. “The Winchesters will also be in the car, which will drop them off near the law office once Ron’s able to confirm no one’s following you. Hermione’s already figured a way to Transfigure Sam in case he’s noticeable.”

“And I get to wear the Invisibility Cloak,” Dean interjected. “Right? We decided that?”

“Yes,” Harry said, shifting. “So use that time to look for the bracelet. Or distract anyone who seems suspicious of the lot of us.” A pause. “If you lose or damage that cloak, though, I will find some creative way to hex you. It was my dad’s.”

“I know,” Sam and Dean answered at the same time.

“Trust me,” Dean said, his eyes shining. “I get the importance of family heirlooms.”

“And he just wants to run around invisible,” Sam added.

“Dude, yes.”

“All right.” Willow pressed her lips together. “I think that’s as ready as we’re going to get.”

Sam nodded, then looked to Donna. “Let’s get ready to see Josh.”

*~*~*

Perhaps the best feeling in the world according to Rosalie was that moment when you slowly slip between the worlds of dreams and reality. She moaned softly as she stretched and burrowed herself into the warm softness of the bed.

The dream was quickly fading. Broken pieces scattered through her mind. At one point there had been a talking unicorn. It said something about protection spells against Mrs. Stewart’s calculus tests. Then it had switched to her out on a date with Hayden Christiansen dressed as Anakin Skywalker. But he wasn’t Anakin. She guessed he was Hayden, but he took her to a pretty restaurant and then the city cemetery. Which was odd because then they started making out. Hard.

But then she realized she wasn’t kissing Hayden Christensen anymore. She was kissing Nick. And his hands were grabby. They all but grabbed her by the pussy. And she felt him pressed up against her and it definitely wasn’t a stake in his pocket. Pulling away from her he looked down and gave her a smile. “Faith,” he whispered.

Nope. She was done. Popping her eyes open she gasped to realize part of it wasn’t a dream. Nick was definitely pressed against her and it definitely wasn’t actual wood poking her in the abdomen.

The dirty part of her mind contemplated how easy it would be to just flip him over on his back and solve her whole virginity dilemma before he even had a chance to rationalize the situation.

That would be kinda rapey though and that would be bad. Plus, she remembered that even in her dream she knew it was Faith he’d be imagining.

Instead, she rolled away and sat up on the edge of the mattress. Thank whatever high atop the thing that the headache from yesterday was gone. Stretching again she noted all in all she felt fine.

Except the whole part where once again someone close to her died a tragic and violent death. And once again she was going to repress it to the dark corners of her brain and push forward like always.

“Hey,” came the sleepy voice behind her.

She turned her neck to look back at Nick’s groggy frown. “Look who’s talking,” she replied.

His cheeks reddened as he yawned and rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“That the first time you said that to girl?”

His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath, slowly releasing it and giving her a small smirk. “Someone got their batteries recharged.”

“Yeah,” she said before turning away. She bet he’d had lots of morning chats with Faith. Ripping the ponytail holder from her hair, she began to try and tame her bedhead.

“Good,” Hunter said softly before groaning and sitting up on the other side of the bed. “Because we best get a move on. I really don’t know how traceable our phones are. I imagine even your father would be able to pick up where you called. I’m not sure if taking the battery out helps or not.”

She turned to look at him with a scowl. “Is that some way of trying to make me feel bad? Because I don’t, jerkwad.”

He stood up and turned to face her. “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad, you silly snit. I just meant that I don’t know if we should ditch our phones.”

“Silly snit?” Rosalie arched a brow.

“Jerkwad?” He mirrored her expression.

Her gaze lowered to see his sail was still at half mast. He must have followed her eyes because he quickly cleared his throat and turned around. “So,” he said quickly. “Thoughts on the phones?”

“Yeah.” She agreed. Move away from Nick’s dick. She bet he could really swab her deck. “Whoa!” she muttered in response to her filthy little mind.

“What?” he hesitantly questioned.

“Uhhh…we aren’t leaving without the continental breakfast.”

“Ro, I’ve seen you clean out a Shoney’s buffet. We don’t have time for all a Slayer can eat.”

“For the record, I had help. Faith was there and you’ve seen my dad go after fried chicken.”

“We have to put a timer on you. We don’t know who is heading to Utah. We also need to decide if we ditch the phones.”

“Lemme get a few waffles in me and we can talk.”


	27. Chapter 27

Donna was beyond nervous as the hostess led her, Sam and Invisible Harry to a table at Center City Grill. Her palms were sweating and she felt a full on panic attack bubbling in her chest.

She was a terrible actor. The only worse poker face she’d met in all Washington was the guy who sat down next to her.

“Calm down,” Sam whispered with a confidence she didn’t understand. “It’s going to be okay.”

She looked about the room before landing on the front door Josh had yet to walk past. “That lie’s so wrong it’s Republican.”

He gave her a small smile. “Look, he expects you to be nervous. He expects it to be weird. Just act like I didn’t tell you about what happened at Wolfram and Hart.”

“Right.” She was going to blow this thing up.

Harry released a quiet cough. “Okay,” Sam said reaching over to give her a reassuring pat on the arm. “He’s here.”

She looked up and saw him mid-sentence with the hostess. He seemed to stop breathing the moment their eyes connected exactly like she did. Her heart constricted in pain as she remembered she didn’t know the man she was looking at. She didn’t know if Josh saw her at all.

Donna blinked back tears as she turned to focus on the water glass in front of her.

“Hey,” Josh said in a total Josh-like manner as he sat down at the table.

“Hey,” Sam said with slight trepidation. “Thanks for meeting us.”

“No, thank you,” Josh replied. Donna could see in her peripheral vision he was looking at her now. “Thank you for talking to me.”

She couldn’t speak. The fact that he looked and sounded so much like her fiancé freaked her out. Had she not been told, she could have lived her entire life with a complete stranger.

“Donna told you what I said?” Sam thankfully took control of the conversation.

“Yeah,” Josh replied as he absently picked up a menu. “You saw the press outside across the street?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s L.A. Of course you got photographers outside any decent place. If Brad Pitt comes in they’ll forget the governor ever walked by.”

“Depends if they don’t just cover the entertainment beat. Really wish we could have handled this in a place a little private.” Josh made a point of looking around the room.

“Well, I thought it better for Donna to not make that trip.”

She saw something flicker behind Josh’s eyes. Guilt? Pain? Panic? Anger? Donna honestly couldn’t tell. “About that…”

Sam took a small sip of water before picking up his menu, unfocused on the way the glass quickly refilled to the brim. She didn’t realize how good of an actor this guy could be. “Yes, I told Donna about the offer they made. The offer to protect me and my…Oz from any…things that could be dangerous.”

She was on. After more than a decade in politics, she had to have some bullshit in her. “That offer makes sense to me.”

“Yeah?” Josh asked hopefully. He looked to Sam. “And that’s what you told her?”

Sam nodded. “Yes. I didn’t discuss the details. Just the fact that after everything I’ve seen, I’m more open to consideration.” He looked around and lowered his voice. “But Oz is non-negotiable. He comes with me.”

Josh nodded. “They figured that. It’s fine. Actually they think it’ll even be an asset. Who doesn’t love a baby? But the name’s gotta change.”

“Agreed,” Sam said a little too enthusiastically.

“Good,” Josh said leaning back in his chair with his smug little grin. “This is good. Good for you,” he said to Sam before turning to Donna. “Good for us.”

“Maybe,” Donna said unable to eliminate the doubt in her voice.

“It will,” Josh said leaning in and resting his elbows on the table. “The best thing for all of us is to have Sam Seaborn in the White House when our kids go to school. If he can give the kids in south Chicago the same educational advances he’s given to California, we can rest assured there will be a new greatest generation.”

Fuck if that didn’t sound like the man she loved. God, she was so confused. Had there been some mistake and Josh was really just Josh after all?

“One step at a time,” Sam responded. “First things first, I’d like a chance to have a one on one with this Lilah Morgan.”

Josh nodded. “No problem. When do you want?”

“How about now? I can talk to her and you and Donna can talk in private.”

“Yeah?” Josh looked to her for confirmation.

“Yes,” Donna said curtly. She didn’t trust herself to try and flesh out the lie.

“Fantastic!” Josh clapped his hands in victory. “Just give me a minute.” He stood up and retrieved his phone. “I’m just gonna”—he gestured over her shoulder—“step in there and make a quick call.” He paused. “We all good?”

“Yup,” Sam said confidently.

“You betcha.” Donna sounded lame to her own ears.

Josh gave her a look, but then nodded in silent understanding. “I know. But it’s all going to work out. I promise.” With that he started off toward the bathroom.

Now the hard part would begin.

*~*~*

The toilets at this place were the single-occupy capacity, which was brilliant because Harry hadn’t thought through what he’d do if there was a mess of men inside.

It would have been so much easier if Hermione had ever determined what would become of the brain if a person was put under more than one Imperius Curse. Sadly, there was no way to test that but the practical, and a load of Healers had made the very convincing argument that it could shatter a man’s mind. A poorly done Imperius Curse ran that risk either way, and from what Harry could tell, the job done on Lyman wasn’t a poor one.

He waited as the bloke dialed, listened as he reassured that Lilah woman that Sam was on the up-and-up and willing to talk. Whatever else, Lyman himself certainly seemed to believe their rouse, which had been the first major hurdle. Harry was impressed with how well Seaborn had played his part.

“Yeah. I’ll have him there shortly. See you.” Josh looked down and disconnected the call, a small, happy smile playing across his lips.

Harry raised his wand. _“Stupefy,”_ he said softly.

The word sounded weird when not being screamed, but it did the job reasonably well either way. Josh flew back against the bathroom wall, his head smacking hard against the tile. Harry winced and pulled off his Invisibility Cloak.

“Sorry,” he said, then withdrew one of the several vials of Polyjuice Potion he had on hand. He snagged several hairs off Lyman’s head, slipped one into the concoction and the others back in his pocket. Then he frowned and prepared to gag, because no matter how familiar he was with the stuff, it was still bloody foul.

Then there was the task of his state of dress. Harry was thinner than Lyman, and a few inches shorter, so the clothing swap left the other man looking more than a little ridiculous. At least he could protect his pride for a bit—no one would see Lyman with his ankles bare and in what might as well have been a belly shirt.

Harry, now wearing Josh’s face, pointed his wand at Lyman again and muttered, “ _Moblicorpus_.”

Like a puppet whose strings were being tugged, Josh drew to a standing position, his feet hovering a few inches off the ground and his head bowed at an awkward angle. Harry took the cloak and draped it over the unconscious man, then, as stealthily as possible, directed him with his wand outside of the loo. It was careful-going, seeing as he couldn’t move too fast and risk the invisible man crashing into someone, so the walk back to the table took several minutes longer than he’d have liked.

When he arrived, he leveled a meaningful look at Sam, cleared his throat, and said in his best American accent, “That’s it. Are you ready?”

Sam exchanged a glance with Donna, who looked downright terrified, then rose to his feet. “Ready,” he said, his voice uncertain.

Harry, who had been expecting this—Polyjuice Potion existing would be a tough pill to swallow—winked to relieve their doubts. Though he wasn’t sure it worked.

Sam leaned forward conspiratorially. “Are…are you…?”

Donna abruptly seized Harry by the cheeks and drew him down for what might’ve been the most awkward kiss of his life. He stood there, frozen, knowing he shouldn’t pull back but every instinct in his body rebelling. It didn’t last long, but it seemed to, and when she released him it was all he could do to keep from wiping her off his lips.

Donna looked to Sam and nodded. “We’re good.”

Harry nodded dumbly, and gestured for Sam to precede him. When Sam walked into the invisible wall that comprised the real Josh Lyman, he managed to recover fairly well, and immediately took the front flank to keep anyone else from doing the same.

“If Ginny ever finds out you did that, she’ll curse us both,” Harry muttered as Donna sidled up beside him.

Donna offered a small, sad smile. “I’m not sure at this point it’d even make a difference.”

*~*~*

It was much too bloody early.

Spike pried his eyes open, his head still a bit foggy. It took a moment to suss out what it was that had awakened him. In typical fashion, he slept like the dead. But since the Slayer was up and at ‘em, he figured he could thank her for having interrupted his beauty sleep.

Buffy was fully dressed, standing with her mobile against the window. She chewed on her thumb for a few seconds before whipping around to face him.

“We need to go,” she said. “Now. Rosalie’s really close. Like, twenty minutes away.”

Spike blinked. “Huss’at?”

“Sweetie, I know you’re tired, but I really need you to wake up. I promise we’ll get to sleep tonight.”

Spike huffed and rolled onto his back. “’at time issit?”

“Almost nine.”

Almost nine. So he’d slept nearly five hours, give or take. Supposed it could be worse. “Red work her mojo, then?”

“The phone call definitely broke the spell,” Buffy said. “Willow was able to figure out which phone towers it pinged off of, and then did a basic locator spell. Spike. Spike!”

Something hit his chest. Spike peeked his eye open—only then realizing he’d closed it—and found his jeans resting against him. His T-shirt followed. “’m up,” he said, fighting to make this the truth. It took what seemed like herculean effort, but he propped himself up on his elbows, shook his head, then swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Once he was actually on his feet, the fog in his head cleared. Sometimes getting up was half the bloody battle.

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said, hurrying over and making like she was going to fit his shirt over his head like he was a sodding two year old. “I’d have let you sleep until sundown if—”

Spike snatched his shirt from her grasp. “I can dress myself, Slayer.”

She scowled. “Just trying to help.”

Great. Now he felt like a right git. Spike rolled his eyes and dragged her against him. “Sorry, love,” he said. “Bad, rude man here.”

“I’ll add cranky to the mix.” Buffy poked her tongue out, but her eyes were dancing. “You realize if we find Rosalie today, we can slow down long enough to actually have sex.”

His eyes went wide. “Bloody hell, shoulda led with that.” He tugged his shirt over his head, not noticing until a moment later that it was on backward, and not caring enough to rectify the situation. “What are you waitin’ for, Slayer? Let’s get a move on!”

Buffy smirked. “Thought that might help light a fire under you.”

He did a one-leg hop, struggling to pull up his jeans. “You know how to motivate a bloke,” he agreed after he had them buttoned. Then, before making for his shoes, cupped her cheeks and kissed her. The sort of kiss he knew from years of blissful experience got her hot and bothered, just to even the playing field.

He pulled back and grinned at the dazed gleam in her eyes.

“Hold that thought, would you, Slayer?”

Buffy shook her head. “You’re mean.”

“Don’t you forget it.” He whirled her around and slapped her ass. “Got us a slayer to rescue. Bloody cavalry is on the way.”

*~*~*

Ron’s American accent was worse than Harry’s, but Sam seemed to compensate for it rather well, screaming louder than the man now posing as Zack Wright after they exited the restaurant. He got rather into it, actually, going as far as to take a swing at Ron that he only just managed to miss. This emboldened Ron’s performance. Harry tried weakly to stop his mate from shoving the governor inside the car, but was almost bowled over by Ron’s enthusiasm. Donna put in a good performance, too, screaming and beating at Ron with her purse.

“Bloody hell,” Ron groused, low enough that no one outside of this radius could hear him but enough that Willow sent him a magical warning zap. Then Ron grabbed Sam bodily and shoved him inside the car for the next stage of their plan to commence.

Harry and Donna beat on the windows, screaming loud obscenities as the car rocked on its axle. A few minutes later, a distinctly disheveled Sam Seaborn fought his way to freedom, stumbling onto the pavement. His clothes were askew and his hair a wreck, and he bore a black eye.

“Oh my god,” Donna said, running forward and running her hand along the bruise. “Did someone actually punch you?”

Sam caught her hand and aimed a distinctly Willowish look at Harry. “Thought it might look convincing,” she said.

Donna took an abrupt step back, the concern fading from her eyes. “You’re…”

“The person who owes you a big apology for being a total nimrod,” Willow agreed in Sam’s voice. “That’s me. But maybe we should see what Ms. Morgan has to offer before we get into that.”

Donna blinked, looked between Willow and Harry. “I didn’t think it’d be this weird,” she said.

Harry took her hand and favored her with the smile that always got Ginny to drop her knickers, hoping it looked something like the way Josh would actually gaze at the woman he loved. “Weird’s just getting started.”

Donna made a face and pulled her hand away.

Harry frowned. “Too much leer?”

“That’s just…” She hesitated, then leaned forward and stage-whispered, “That’s Josh’s drunk and horny look and since you’re not Josh and I hope neither drunk nor horny, it’s just…strange because I know you primarily as an eleven-year-old wizard.”

Willow patted Donna’s shoulder. “You didn’t know him when he was eleven.”

“Yeah, but I feel like I did.” Donna shook her head, straightened her shoulders. “All right. Sorry. I’ll be okay.”

Harry dove a hand into his—Josh’s—pants pocket and drew out the keys he’d stolen off the other bloke. “Right then,” he said, bouncing the keys in his hand. “Into the heart of the bloody beast.”

*~*~*

“Can I touch it?”

“No, Dean, for the fifth time, you cannot touch my face.”

Dean pouted, leaning closer anyway. “It’s just… You don’t look like you, dude.”

“Pretty sure that’s the point,” Sam replied irritably. Indeed, Hermione had done a great job of transforming him. He was now blond and looked to be in his late forties. His normally hazel eyes were a rich, deep brown and he had a goatee that did not look nearly as ridiculous as it should. Only Dean seemed to want to touch it to make sure it was real.

“Come on,” Dean said as the car came to a stop. “Just let me feel it.”

“Dean.”

“What?”

Sam Seaborn handed over the silky Invisibility Cloak. “Ron says you have about fifteen seconds to get out.”

Dean brightened and snatched up the cloak without so much as a thank you, threw it around himself and stumbled onto the curb. It was only by virtue of his enthusiastic. “Oh, hell yes!” that Sam had any assurance he was standing there.

Sam nodded at the governor. “Good luck.”

“You too,” the other Sam replied.

Sam’s feet had barely hit the pavement before the car took off. He allowed himself a moment to gather his bearings, then withdrew his phone from his pocket to check the GPS.

“Dude,” Dean whispered from behind him, “I am totally invisible!”

“I know,” he replied without looking up.

“This is awesome.” Some shuffling. “I’m making faces at you that you can’t see because I’m invisible.”

Sam didn’t bother acknowledging this. He returned his phone to his pocket and patted the golden amulet Willow had cursed before they’d left the Hyperion just to make sure it was still there. It was. He mentally rehearsed his cover story again—man who has just inherited this rare heirloom from his deceased parents, determined to keep it away from his good-for-nothing sibling—and straightened his shoulders.

“Wolfram and Hart’s about four blocks west,” he told the empty space where Dean had last spoken.

“Ha!” came from his other side. “I’m over here now.”

“Dean!”

“What? Oh, all right. You big killjoy.”

“Remember, you can’t say a word once we get in.”

“If you could see me right now, you’d see that my lips are sealed. But you can’t, so I have to tell you.”

Sam swallowed a groan, wishing he’d taken some migraine medicine before he’d left the hotel.

Even if this went smoothly, it was going to be a long day.

*~*~*

For the first time since Natchez, something had gone right.

“They’re still here,” Buffy said the second she climbed out of the car. “Thank god.” It was one of those things that had become intuitive over the years. Not only did the air smell of them, it had a certain cadence. Almost the way she’d felt vampires back when she’d been human. Something in her stirred to life, warning her reptile brain that the Slayer was near.

That and she could pick Giles’s car out of a lineup.

“Follows here,” Spike said, running up to one of the outward-facing room doors. He stopped, sniffed, then banged his fist against it.

“Subtle,” Buffy observed.

“No point sneakin’. Figure these two’ll be jumpy as it is.” They waited a few beats before Spike pressed his ear to the surface. “No one home there. Reckon they mighta checked out?”

“You go check,” Buffy said. “I’ll wait by Giles’s car. Make sure we don’t miss them.”

Spike nodded, left her with a brief parting kiss, then hurried off toward the check-in desk.

*~*~*

The scent of stale cereal, undercooked bacon, and stale toast assaulted his senses the moment he stepped inside. Even still, his stomach, which he’d likewise neglected since his impromptu roadtrip, gave a wicked growl. First stop after this one was a butchers. He and Buffy both needed to fuel up.

Neither Rosalie nor her wanker of a watcher were at the counter, but he could bloody feel them in the building. Rosalie, at least. Spike brushed past the bloke manning the desk and followed a hall around the corner. Voices and the unmistakable sound of people chewing reached his ears. And then, _yes_ , thank bloody fuck.

Rosalie was standing at the waffle-maker, eyeing it like it had insulted her. Hunter was seated at a table against the wall, his back to the door. Rookie mistake, that. Just anyone could walk on up to her.

As though sensing the thought or him or both, Rosalie raised her eyes to his and went still.

He offered a slight wave. “’Lo Bit.”

She blinked. “Uncle Spike? What are you doing here?”

Hunter shot to his feet like someone had lit a flame under his ass. He whirled around, eyes wide and jaw unhinged, before he turned to his slayer.

“Rosalie!” he screamed. “Run!”

Spike rolled his eyes.

Well, that was bloody subtle.

*~*~*

Melody Morris was useless in a fight. While most men may have found that endearing, Giles found it utterly frustrating.

The only way he had kept his patience through the long and irritating night spent at the hospital was the reminder that this was really only her second paranormal crisis. Unfortunately, her son had to be kidnapped and used in both.

Granted, his daughter had been the subject of countless apocalypses and he’d still found a way to help.

Melody was mad at him. She hadn’t spoken to him once. She’d told Rosie she had no intention of going back home after they were discharged, hence why Giles had brought the group to the Hyperion.

Cordelia seemed pleased by the distraction and immediately made haste with getting the kids fed and settled. Wright was understandably on edge, making his way from one room to the other with small tasks meant to serve as distraction. Melody had immediately made her way upstairs to rest.

Any other time Giles would have been delighted to have the opportunity to converse with Hermione Granger-Weasley in person. They’d shared numerous emails and owls over the years. At the moment, he was much too exhausted to more than sit himself down on a foyer sofa and try not to fall asleep.

“Mom and Dad have read us all the books.” He heard Rosie addressing Hermione across the room.

“Well, what was your favorite part?” the witch questioned.

“Probably how you were the real hero. Everyone focused on Harry, but you were actually the one that kicked all the ass.”

Hermione giggled. “I like you.”

“How can I make one of those magic bags? The one you had that held everything? And can you fit a brother in one?”

Giles gave a smile. Of course she would ask that, of all things.

“Tell you what. After all this is over, I’ll see what we can do.”

He heard the excitement in Rosie’s voice. “Awesome.”

*~*~*

“Tell me again why I couldn’t have a body double?” Donna asked as they pulled up to Wolfram and Hart.

“Because someone had to stay at the Hyperion in case they tried to show up and found the real Wright. Plus under the rule of international laws of magic, one may not administer Polyjuice Potion to a Muggle without first acquiring a permit.”

She looked at the man posing as her fiancé. “Well, that’s stupid.” Donna then turned to Willow. “I’m the worst one to be going in there. Can’t I just wait in the car?”

“You’ll be great!” Fake Sam was hard to process. “And I’m sorry…about everything.”

“Don’t,” Donna said holding up her hand. “We need to talk, but we are _not_ doing it now.”

“Gotcha,” Swillow said with a nod. “Okay, then. Let’s rock this bitch.”

*~*~*

Panic surged through his blood as he stood face-to-face with William the Bloody. His pathetic life flashed before his eyes as he knew he didn’t stand a chance of surviving against the monster before him. “Run!” He shouted once more, never taking his eyes off the man was certain would be snapping his neck in the next few moments.

Something must have clicked in his slayer’s brain because she shoved Spike back and bolted for the door.

“Smooth,” the vampire gave him with an eye roll.

Nick didn’t care as he took the opportunity to try and escape. Running out the front door, he made way to the car. His heart stopped as he saw Rosalie standing face-to-face with someone sitting on the back trunk.

“Buffy.” Bile rose in his throat.

“Hey guys!” The elder blonde smiled and waved at them. “Thought you two could use a little help.”

“Seriously?” Rosalie asked. “How did you find us so fast?”

“Willow’s the best. She realized you broke the spell last night when you called your dad.” Buffy hopped down and pulled Rosalie into a hug. “Spike and I could also track this car like a blood mobile,” she added softly. “Never take a vampire’s dad’s car. Way too easy.”

While Rosalie simply laughed and returned the embrace, warning bells rang in Nick’s mind. “Ro, come here.”

Rosalie turned around. “What?”

“She was kidnapped. By Wolfram and Hart.”

Rosalie did back away at that, but surprisingly Buffy didn’t make a move to stop her. “Oh shit,” Buffy muttered as her eyes went wide in realization.

“Oh fuck,” Rosalie said, backing herself up against Nick. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and took another step back.

“This is bad,” Buffy said to them before turning her head slightly to the left. “This is very bad.”

“What?” Spike said so close Nick could feel the man’s breath upon his neck. “You best get your hands off my little girl before I remove them from your body.”

Nick shuddered in fear, but tightened his grip on Rosalie. He’d vowed to die for her, but had hoped to have lived long enough to have told her he loved her.

“Down, Spike,” Buffy chastised. “No, not that.”

“Yes. That.” Spike had pressed himself against Nick now in a manner that made him feel like the middle of the most awkward sandwich in history.

“No, I was kidnapped by Wolfram and Hart. The same guys who just tried to kill her and the same guys that are mind-controlling people.”

Spike grunted. “So what? We aren’t evil.” A pause. “You aren’t evil.” He whispered in Nick’s ear. “But I am.”

Buffy sighed. “Rosie. Nick. How do we prove we are on your side? Because the sooner we work this out is the sooner we can start showing those assholes they screwed with the three best Slayers in the history of the world. And thanks to Faith’s sacrifice, we’re gonna win.”

*~*~*

Weirdly, Sam Winchester wasn’t too nervous about the mission. At least not the role he was playing. Lying to get in somewhere to sneak around and steal an object wasn’t exactly a new game.

He jerked when he felt a pinch on his butt.

“Didn’t see that coming,” his brother teased.

He was nervous that Dean was going to blow everything by being a complete dumbass.

“Stop it!” Sam hissed, swatting behind him. They were just to the door now and it was impossible to ignore the confusion that came from the businessman who had just left the building.

Sam gave the man an embarrassed smile and chuckle before heading inside.

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked as he walked up to the desk.

“Yes, I was referred here to speak with a Lilah Morgan? I was told she would be interested in representing me in a situation between myself and my brother.”

“Who referred you?”

“Crowley.” It was a total shot in the dark, but this seemed like a place where the king of Hell would have some pull. Making deadly deals was his thing.

It worked. “Oh?” The woman’s eyes grew wide and excited. “Is he with you?”

“No. But I do have something he said your firm would find rather intriguing.” He reached in his pocket to retrieve the locket, setting it on the desk between them. “Though I wouldn’t suggest you handle it without protection.”

The woman nodded. “And your name?”

“John. John Singer.”

“Okay, Mr. Singer, let me make a quick call upstairs and see about getting you in.”

“Thank you,” he said backing away politely.

When he turned around, he saw a fern shaking back and forth. “Dean! Cut it out!”

“What?” The insincerity in his brother’s voice made him want to punch him in the throat.

“I see you with the plant.”

“Dude, that’s not me.”

“Really?”

“Nah, that’s totally me. But you wouldn’t know because I’m fucking invisible!”

“I swear that I’m going to—“

“Mr. Singer?”

Sam turned and plastered on his best fake smile. “Yes?”

“Ms. Morgan only has a couple of minutes, but she said she would very much like to meet a friend of Mr. Crowley’s if that is okay. Otherwise, she would be happy to reschedule for later this afternoon.”

“No, now would be terrific. I promise not to take up too much of her time. Though I won’t mind coming back for future appointments.” He turned on the flirt mode. It was a cheap trick that always worked wonders with the ladies.

It hit the mark. She gave a titter and batted her eyelashes. “I’ll show you to the elevators.”

“Great.” He gestured for her to lead the way. Phase one was going right on plan.

She had just pressed the button to call the lift when he heard a smack. The pretty blonde jumped and then grabbed her rear. Sam’s eyes went wide with horror as he realized Dean had slapped her ass. “Sorry,” he said unable to elaborate.

“Don’t be,” she said with a wink as the door to the elevator opened. “Just stop by the desk on the way out and I’ll give you my number.”

“Oh, uhhh, okay,” he awkwardly replied as he scrambled to get inside. “What floor?” He was already hitting the button to close the door.

“Three.”

“Thanks.” He kept the smile up until the elevator closed. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Gotta find me first,” Dean said.

Sam heard the direction on his voice and used it to wheel around and to kick. Hard.

“Fuck!” Dean swore after emitting a grunt of pain. “That was dangerously close to the No Zone.”

“Believe me when I say I’m not sorry. Now stop jacking around. Remember we have to get that bracelet back so they can’t use that woman’s power.”

“Faith,” Dean said with all humor gone from his voice. “I know. Trust me, that wasn’t one I’m about to forget.”

“Okay then. So stop messing around.”

“Trust me, Sammy. I’m just getting warmed up.”


	28. Chapter 28

It was because she was so damn tired. That was why she hadn’t anticipated this particular complication. Because _obviously_ the first thought Rosalie would have was that she and Spike were here to grab them and haul them back to Los Angeles.

“Spike, seriously,” she said, holding up a hand. “They have no reason to trust us and every reason to…well, not trust us. So maybe less with the menace.”

“Don’t listen to her, Rosalie,” Hunter stage-whispered. “She’s trying to get you to lower your guard.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Think they breed these new watchers even thicker than yours, love.” He rapped his knuckles against Hunter’s head. “Slayer and me got these shiny baubles.” He pointed to the ring on his finger. “Means we can’t be killed. If we wanted to off you, you’d be dead by now.”

“I said _less_ with the menace,” Buffy snapped.

“What?” Spike retorted. “This is Bite Size, Slayer. She’s known us most of her bloody life. I start cooing and tellin’ her sweet nothings, it’ll scare her even more.”

Rosalie nodded. “That’s actually true.”

Hunter scowled. “Rosalie!”

“What? It is. And he’s right—I have known them both for half my life.” She turned to Buffy. “Have you talked to my dad?”

Buffy pressed her lips together and nodded. “Yeah. And he wants us to keep close.”

“How convenient,” Hunter spat.

“And away from LA,” she continued. “He doesn’t want you guys to come back. In fact, we’re supposed to keep on the road as far from LA as possible.”

Rosalie eyes went wide, her jaw somewhat slack. “Really?”

“Does that really sound like your father?” Hunter hissed. “This is obviously a ploy to—”

“Oh god,” she demanded, whipping her head to Spike. “Something happened, didn’t it? Who—”

“It’s a trick, Rosalie!”

“Evil lawyers nabbed your sister,” Spike said, then threw his hands up when Buffy aimed a death glare in his direction. “What? No sense coddlin’ the girl, is there? Better she find out from us.”

“Wolfram and Hart has Kelly?” Rosalie shook her head and turned to Nick. “We have to go back.”

“No,” Buffy, Spike, and Hunter screamed at the same time. This seemed to jolt the Watcher from one extreme to the next. He looked positively horrified to have agreed with them on anything.

“Wait,” he said slowly, “you don’t want Rosalie to go back to Los Angeles?”

“Caught on, did you?” Spike rolled his eyes and snickered. “Way we heard it, they already have a rescue plan in motion and chances are it’d be over by the time we rolled back into town. Bite Size is gonna do her pap no bloody favors by headin’ toward the wankers who want her power.”

Hunter was breathing hard, looking from Spike to Buffy as though certain he’d catch one of them in a lie.

“Spike,” Buffy said, coming to a decision, “grab him.”

Spike’s eyes brightened. “With pleasure, love.”

“I knew it!” Hunter screamed, kicking his legs as Spike wrapped his arms around him from behind and heaved him into the air. “Rosalie—”

“Rosie,” Buffy said, taking the young slayer by the wrist. “Follow me, please.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, just started tugging the girl across the parking lot toward the room where their scent was the strongest. Rosalie didn’t think to start protesting until it was too late, and Buffy had kicked the door down.

“Not sure where you’re goin’ with this,” Spike muttered as he carted the struggling Watcher over the threshold.

Buffy released Rosalie, then whirled around and slammed the door so the sunlight was firmly on the other side.

“Here,” she said, tearing her ring off her finger and tossing it to the younger Slayer. “Spike, give her yours.”

For a moment, she thought he’d argue, but he didn’t. Instead, he shoved the Watcher so hard he fell over the bed and landed on the floor beside the wall, then took his own ring off. “Try not to lose this, pidge,” he said, handing it to Rosalie. “Less you fancy your uncle going extra dusty.”

“What is this?” Hunter demanded, his voice hoarse. “Some kind of trick?”

Buffy shook her head and motioned for Spike to step deeper into the shadows. He did so, but with a frown that told her he knew what she was about to do and didn’t approve.

“No trick,” she said, moving in front of the blinds. The few drops of sunlight leaking between the slats had her skin smoking and sizzling. She grabbed the cord that, if pulled, would turn her to dust and held it to Rosalie. “Take it.”

“Buffy,” Spike said, his voice a bit shrill. “Sweetheart—”

“It’s okay,” Buffy replied, though she couldn’t hide her grimace as the burning against her skin intensified. “Rosalie. Take it.”

Rosalie hesitated, but only for a second, then hurried over and did as she was told. Though she looked downright terrified. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you the power,” Buffy said, holding up her hands. “I’m not evil. Spike’s not evil. We’re not under anyone’s control. We’re here because we love you and, no offense, it was stupid easy getting the drop on you out there. If we were under Wolfram and Hart’s control, Spike would’ve ripped your Watcher’s throat out by now and we’d be back on the road.”

“Buffy.” Spike stepped forward and reached for her. “Get away from the sodding window.”

“Not until she’s convinced we’re here to help.” The spot sizzling on her wrist suddenly caught fire. Buffy yelped and jumped around, hitting the flame until it went out. “Mother of _pearl_ , that hurts.”

“Oh god, Buffy.” Rosalie rushed forward and all but jabbed the ring back onto her finger. Instantly, the sizzling stopped, though the pain remained. “Is it bad?”

Buffy winced and examined the spot. “I’m going to need a pick-me-up, but it should be fine.” She drew her gaze to Rosalie’s face and offered a soft smile. “So…you believe us?”

“Yes, yes, I believe you.” Rosalie turned to Spike, whose expression was torn somewhere between furious and worried, and launched herself into his arms. “Sorry, Uncle Spike.”

It took Spike a moment to react. He was still staring at Buffy in such a way that she knew he’d let her have it later, and maybe not in the fun way. Then, awkwardly, he patted Rosalie’s back and relaxed. “No worries, Bite Size. Can’t be sure who to trust these days.”

Rosalie nodded and handed him back his ring before looking to Hunter, who appeared completely dumbfounded.

“Sorry,” Buffy said, wincing and rubbing the place that had just recently been on fire. “I couldn’t think of any better way to convince them.”

“So you decide to become a bloody human torch.” Spike stomped over to her, seized her wrist and held it up to his face. “Slayer, I could throttle you sometimes.”

“Excuse me,” Hunter said, apparently having found his voice. “But…what?” He looked to Rosalie. “He’s a soulless vampire with a history of killing slayers. Do you seriously suggest we trust him?”

The part of Buffy that had been softened with understanding went rigid. “I’m sorry, did _your_ hand almost go up in flames just now?”

“Spike’s different,” Rosalie replied. “I know you haven’t had the chance to be around him that much, but I’ve known him since I was a kid. He saved me and Nikki from a Kraelek demon the first time we met.”

“In Los Angeles?” Hunter asked, his expression slack. “I find that unlikely. Kraelek demons aren’t indigenous to this country.”

“Oh, well, guess I just imagined the one that nearly took out Bite Size and her slayer-wannabe aunt,” Spike replied with more bite than Buffy thought the situation warranted, but given she was on his shit list, she decided not to point this out. “Don’t they teach you wankers anything? They’re mercs. Never figured out what it was in town for, but I’d wager everyone’s favorite law firm had something to do with it. And if you don’t believe Rosie, ring up Cordelia or Charlie. They were there too.”

“He didn’t know us then,” Rosalie added. “Me or my dad. He saved us just…because.”

“’Cause your mum picked a bloody rotten time to get one of her visions. Was on the way to that karaoke joint.” Spike sobered. “Though, in retrospect, glad to have been of assistance.”

“Also,” Buffy interjected, placing herself between Spike and Hunter, “this conversation? So ten years ago. I am not going to have it again with you.”

“Excuse me for being concerned,” Hunter snapped. “The vampire who made a name for himself by killing slayers has spent less than ten percent of his life housebroken, but I should trust him when the whole bloody world seems to want my slayer dead?”

Buffy didn’t say anything at first, just took a step closer to Hunter, and smiled when he immediately took one in the other direction. “Do you know who I am, little boy?”

Spike whistled low. “Mate, you done stepped in it.”

To his credit, Hunter didn’t cower, though he seemed to realize that he had pissed off the wrong person. He stuck his chin in the air, his lower lip wobbling, and glared right back at her. “Of course I know who you are. I know you were turned and, being a slayer, you retained your soul. I also know that you and Spike are involved. But that doesn’t mean much to me. Vampires can’t feel. They can’t—”

“Nick,” Rosalie said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, “just stop before you say something dumb. Err, dumber. Okay?” She glanced back to Spike and smiled. “You say there’s a plan to save Kelly?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied, glaring at the watcher for another moment. “From what he told us, we’d just be in the way. Red’s there with her Hogwarts lot and these hunter gits. Told your pap we’d keep an eye on you since the one your with’s about as useful as a table lamp, and not quite as bright.”

Hunter scowled, but this time had the sense to keep quiet.

“Right then.” Spike looked to Buffy. “Got any ideas on where we should head, love?”

She hadn’t until that moment, but it came to her in a burst of inspiration and she nodded. “Yeah, actually. How do we summon an angel?”

*~*~*

“Mr. Seaborn.” Lilah Morgan stood and flashed a wide smile before allowing her eyes to take a tour down the length of Sam’s body. “So good to see you again.”

Willow fought the urge to hex her on principle.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” she said instead, hoping her smile looked reasonably real. “And…my apologies for the way I left things the last time I was here. I was…overwhelmed.” She glanced at Harry, who dipped his head in a stoic _yeah-bro_ kind of way and seized Donna’s hand. “It had been a very…difficult few days. What with learning about my child and Josh’s involvement in keeping me away from the mother.” _For which I am totally going to turn you into a fat, ugly toad._ She cleared her throat. “But with everything I’ve seen over the past couple of days… I am concerned. Very concerned.”

“I certainly don’t blame you,” Lilah said, motioning to the chair across from her desk. “It is a lot to take in…though I do understand you were in town around a year ago when a vampire was terrorizing the streets of Los Angeles.”

_A vampire you put there._

“Yes, I was. That was actually when I met Willow. I didn’t have much time to acclimate before I returned to DC, and then… Well… I’ve been talking to Josh and I think it might be human nature for people to suppress or rationalize the fantastical.” She shook her head to drive the point home. “Look, Ms. Morgan, I haven’t arrived at a decision on what I want to do yet. I can tell you that Ainsley Hayes will not be a part of my future. I…understand yours and Josh’s enthusiasm for her, but if I am to proceed with your firm, I want to maintain some autonomy over my life. That is a nonnegotiable.”

Lilah arched an eyebrow, looking somewhat impressed. “We do believe you will be more attractive as a candidate for the presidency if you are established as a family man. There are creative ways to get around this, though. Particularly with a child involved. Once we seize custody of the baby and subdue Ms. Rosenberg, we can create a narrative surrounding your story. Voters would lose themselves over a single father.”

Willow balled her hands into fists and looked to Harry, who stared back with Josh’s wide eyes, warning her without words not to do something stupid.

“A deceased sister, perhaps,” Lilah suggested. “She died in child birth. The father is out of the picture and you are the custodial parent. It could also be a launch-point for a discussion of the state of women’s medicine in the country, which would broadly appeal to your voters.”

Willow sank into a chair across from Lilah at last. “You could do that?”

Lilah favored her with the grin of the canary-stuffed cat, but before she could reply, there came a knock on her door.

“Yes?”

The door creaked open and a timid-looking baby-faced intern poked his head inside. “Ms. Morgan, John Singer is here to see you. And…” He swallowed. “Mr. Wright has arrived with Mr. Wyndam-Pryce.”

Lilah nodded. “Please take Mr. Wyndam-Pryce to the conference room and see that Mr. Wright is compensated for his trouble before he leaves.”

_Compensated for his trouble_ was a weird way to say “has his baby returned to him,” but maybe Lilah was trying to be tactful.

Willow shot a quick look to Harry, who nodded and turned to Donna. “Sweetheart,” he said in the worst-possible Josh Lyman impression in the history of existence, “why don’t we take a walk?”

“I’d like that,” Donna said, a bit too high to be believable.

“I’ll return shortly, Ms. Morgan,” Harry said, tugging Donna toward the door. “We need to—ahh, discuss a few things.”

“Very well,” Lilah said, keeping her gaze on Willow. “Mr. Governor, I hope you don’t mind, but I have a client whose business with Wolfram and Hart is about to be concluded. Given your recent experience with the paranormal, I think you’d be interested to see how we fulfill our contracts.”

Her heart started thumping impossibly hard. “Mr. Wyndam-Pryce was here when I first visited, yes?”

“Yes. And again, my apologies for the way that interview was conducted.” Lilah stood, smoothing her hands down her sides. “But our contracts are ironclad. When we promise to deliver, we do so. Mr. Wyndam-Pryce came to us after his fiancé was brutally murdered by a vampire. He did some clean-up work for Wolfram and Hart which will ultimately allow us to be better positioned to protect innocent people from the scourge of the paranormal.”

“You killed a girl. I do remember that being part of the conversation.” They had discussed this earlier—that it wouldn’t be believable for Sam to pretend he hadn’t heard every awful thing Lilah had said that day. Still, bringing it up felt like a gamble.

“The girl wasn’t human,” Lilah said somberly. “Like the vampire, she was a danger to society. We take no pleasure from this, Mr. Seaborn.” She fixed on a smile as the door opened and a tall, older blond man stepped inside, somewhat awkwardly. It took Willow a moment to recognize him as a transfigured Sam Winchester.

“Mr. Singer,” Lilah greeted. “This is an unexpected surprise, but you have impeccable timing. I was just about to escort Governor Seaborn to personally witness the level of dedication Wolfram and Hart places behind its contracts. Would you care to accompany me?”

This hadn’t been part of the plan, but how exactly could they say no?

“I’d—ahh, be delighted.”

“Excellent.” Lilah beamed and stepped forward. “If you gentlemen will follow me…”

*~*~*

Harry didn’t care to leave Donna to her own devices, but there was no way he’d risk her safety by dragging her back into Lilah’s office after watching her, Willow, and Sam Winchester stalk down the hall. He waited a few minutes before turning to the blond. “Go to the loo,” he said, dragging his wand out of Josh Lyman’s pants pocket. “And stay there.”

“What are you doing?” Donna hissed.

“Going to search her office for that bracelet.”

“Why can’t I come?”

“Because it’s dangerous.”

“Any more dangerous than not knowing if it’s safe to come out of the bathroom? How do you expect to tell me to come out?”

Well, she raised a decent point. Harry frowned, then shook his head. “Fine. But you do exactly as I say. If something happens, stay behind me.”

“No worries there,” Donna muttered.

Harry waited until the corridor was empty before stepping back into the hallway. He was about halfway back to Lilah’s office when the unmistakable sound of something crashing rang through the air, and his heart skipped.

_“Muffliato,”_ he said, hoping that would do for now, and rushed to the door. Locked. He sighed and pointed his wand at it.

“Swish and flick,” Donna chirped unhelpfully. She had the decency to look chagrined when he glared at her. “Sorry. I forgot you weren’t Josh for a moment.”

“Regularly see Josh brandishing wands, do you?”

“Well, sometimes he calls his…” She went pink and Harry felt his face do the same. “Never mind. Sorry.”

“Thankful you don’t work in politics or anything,” Harry muttered, turning his attention back to the door. “Would hate for you to have a high-pressure job. _Alohomora.”_

The lock gave and Harry shouldered the door open to a room that had been absolutely trashed. Books, legal pads, and pencils were flying in every which direction. The source—a pair of disembodied hands over the desk.

“Dean!” Harry snapped.

The hands stopped moving and Dean Winchester’s floating head poked out of the air. “Do I know you?”

“It’s Harry Potter.”

“Oh, right. Forgot you looked like a middle-aged asshole now.” He paused and glanced at Donna. “No offense.”

“Never mind that. What the bleeding hell are you doing?”

He shrugged. “What’s it look like? Come on, Potter. Help me find this bracelet.”

“You are never wearing my cloak after this again, do you hear?”

Dean favored him with a ragged grin. “Worth it.”

*~*~*

Rosalie fully trusted Buffy and Spike. A part of her knew the moment Spike had spoke to her downstairs. She’d faced evil and Spike, at least the one present, was anything but.

Nick wasn’t on board. She knew that. He’d commented several times throughout the past few months he’d been here his dislike and distrust for her surrogate uncle. But she knew he also trusted Buffy. And she knew he trusted her.

Maybe.

“Nick?” she said as she turned to look at her Watcher. “Do you trust me?”

He gave her an exasperated expression. “You have to put it like that?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed heavily, glancing to the others before looking her in the eyes once more. “Yes,” he nearly growled. “Though I place my objections on the public record.”

“You can shove your objections up you little white ass,” Spike responded.

“Bite me,” Nick snapped.

“Don’t,” Rosalie warned. “Both of you play nice. You’re sweet, but dumb.” She made a point of looking to her uncle. “Both of you.”

“Fine,” the men grunted in unison.

Rosalie turned to Buffy. “Did you say Angel? He has his soul back finally?”

“Not that wanker! Wankers with wings.”

Buffy nodded. “The Winchesters have an angel friend. He took Zack and I back to L.A. right after you two slipped off.”

“I know that name. Winchester.” Her eyes lit up with recognition. “Yes! Sam was nice. Dean and Nikki kept sneaking off to screw. John was a lot like Dad.”

“Well, it’s just the boys now and they ran into us in Natchez and have been helping us out ever since. Though it probably didn’t help that Spike stole their car.”

Spike shrugged. “Not sorry.”

Nick took a step forward. “Angel? They have amazing abilities. Strength, healing, and teleportation. But I’ve never heard of anyone summoning one before.”

“This one has a phone,” Buffy explained. “Though Dean was able to just call out and make him come.”

“Awww,” Rosalie said. “I want a pet angel!” She turned to Spike. “I also want that waffle you cost me.”

“Well, I want to suck your boyfriend’s neck dry, but we learn to live with our disappointments.”

She expected Nick to voice a denial. Instead, he just folded his arms and glared at Spike.

“Castiel?” Buffy said looking up at the ceiling. “Not sure if you have an open line, but we’re releasing the Bat Signal.”

“Hey, Castiel!” Spike shouted. “Get your feathery ass down here!”

“My ass does not have feathers,” a voice in the corner spoke.

A man in a trench coat stepped out of the shadows. “Whoa,” was all Rosalie could think to respond.

“For the record,” he said looking at Buffy. “I will answer to you, but I won’t be taking calls from your mate. I don’t hear anything without a soul.”

“Dick,” Spike mumbled causing Rosalie to snicker at the complete insanity of this entire conversation.

“Hello, Rosalie,” Castiel said turning to her. He really was quite handsome, though he didn’t strike her as particularly angelic in nature. “I have admired your work for many years. God chose wisely with the gifts he bestowed upon you.” Castiel’s eyes shifted to Nick. “You’re her Watcher?”

“Yes.”

The angel arched a brow. “You’re much younger than your predecessors. I thought that after the events of 1743 they had ruled there were no active Watchers under age thirty.”

Nick cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. “Yes, well…there was a shortage of willing volunteers for the assignment.”

“Why?” Rosalie asked.

“Likely because the last two that came over both stopped towing the line,” Spike offered.

Nick nodded.

“What happened in 1743?” Buffy questioned.

“Eliza Mathers and her Watcher, Thomas Windsor, began a romantic relationship. She died shortly after childbirth when a nest of vampires caught scent of her hiding. Both mother and child were lost and Thomas was—“

“Executed by the Watchers Council for betrayal of duty,” Nick said finishing Castiel’s story.

“Do they really do that?” Rosalie asked.

Nick’s expression softened. “No. There’s been no Watcher executed in more than seventy years. Excommunication is their typical punishment of choice.”

Relief washed over her. Not that she and Nick were anything to be worried about. They were totally still in the Watcher/Slayer zone. But she didn’t want to worry about the home office calling in for his head on a pike. “Okay, well that was a fun little story time. Thank you, Mr. Angel Man.”

“We need your help,” Buffy said. “Wolfram and Hart want her dead and they want to end the Slayer line.”

Castiel frowned. “That amount of power would be nearly impossible to contain.”

“They figured it out,” Spike replied. “Some sort of magical booby trap that locked on to a slayer’s wrist.”

Rosalie nodded. “The only one who could remove it was Faith.”

Castiel nodded in understanding. “It only released because she agreed to wear it instead, I surmise. Which would mean it was warded by very dark magic.” He sighed and looked back at Buffy. “This is bad. The power in the Slayer line is some of the oldest and strongest in existence. Neither of you have even tapped into your full potential abilities. No Slayer has lived long enough to fully harness that level of power. Though immorality may bring you there in a few hundred years, Ms. Summers.”

“Whoa,” Rosalie responded again. This guy was all with the mind blowing.

“So you can help us?” Buffy pressed. “We need to get somewhere safe where they can’t get to her.”

Castiel looked around the room. “I believe so, but understand that whatever forces they are using now are strong and dark. I’m not sure that any amount of running will prevent them from eventually find you all. I cannot shield you from any tracking spells they may have invoked.”

“What are you good for, then?” Spike snapped.

“Yes,” Nick agreed in kind. “How exactly can you help?”

The next moment was indescribable. One instant they were all standing awkwardly in the hotel room, looking at one another in confusion as Castiel pulled them all together in what appeared to be a forced hug. Then with a flash of light and an instant of shear weightlessness, they can crashing down on the earth.

It was hard to keep upright. Nick failed and tumbled backward into the ground. Instinctively she walked over to pull him up on his feet. “Bloody hell,” he whispered to her.

“Where the fuck are we?” Spike demanded.

“Lebanon, Kansas,” Castiel replied. “This bunker was once a station for the Men of Letters. It may not work forever, but for now, you’re all safe.”

Rosalie sounded like a broken record.

“Whoa.”

_*~*~*_

“Dude!” Dean stopped in his search-slash-destruction of this bitch’s desk. He looked up to Harry. “Why are we wasting time looking? Do that summoning thing you did back in the cemetery!”

Harry turned from the file cabinet he was rummaging and gave him a scowl. It looked weird on this traitor guy’s face. “That would be bloody fantastic if the bracelet is within the confines of this room. If it’s on Lilah Morgan herself, we’d blow this whole operation.”

Dean hated when his idea sucked. “Whatever,” he grumbled, throwing a coffee cup on the ground.

“Could you _try_ to make more noise?” Donna snapped in a harsh whisper. She then turned back to the bookshelf she had been searching. “Why would she leave something that important unattended?”

“She’s the best kind of villain,” Harry explained. “The easiest ones to catch are those so arrogant they believe they’ve already won before the fight finishes.” He switched to another drawer. “Both times I met her, she revealed more information than she ought. She told us about the plan to kill the girl before we had any idea what that bracelet would do. She also let slip her plans in the cemetery. I’ve dealt with this kind before.”

“So it could be in her pocket,” Donna said annoyed. “Or her purse.”

Dean really didn’t care for this chick. Rolling his eyes, he caught a flash of something above her head. On top of the bookshelf was a small glimpse of gold. “Harry, call the bracelet.”

“Dean, I told you—“

“Call the fucking bracelet, Potter!” he snapped, never taking his eyes off what he sure hoped was Faith’s murder weapon.

*~*~*

Zack gave his wife a nervous glance as he heard the lock click on the door. He’d long since untied her and gave her their niece.

“Don’t do this,” Kelly tearfully pleaded one last time.

“This has to end somehow, Kel. I started this, so I should finish it.”

“Derek started this! He used both his sons as pawns for his own sick game.”

The door opened before he could respond. He knew he should be relieved to see his brother, but the thought of impending death kinda did the opposite.

“Mr. Morris? I believe there is someone here to see you,” Lilah sneered as she gestured for those behind her to follow her over the threshold.

The room grew uncomfortably small as Lilah led Wright, Wes, Slater and two guys he didn’t recognize in the room.

“Sam?” Kelly asked with a wrinkled brow. “Is that you?”

“Uhh…” the taller one of the two stammered.

“Yes,” the other one answered quickly, turning to Lilah. “I met them last year with Willow. He was bad and she was good.”

Lilah gave him a slightly confused look. “Yes, that is the simple way of saying that.”

“Give me my daughter,” Wright demanded. “That was the deal.”

Though it looked like Wright, he just didn’t quite sound like the guy he knew.

“I suppose we did have an arrangement. Though you do have a choice to make. Either way, we’re taking one of your daughters, Mr. Wright. Either it’s the Slayer with all her powers or it’s this one,” Lilah said gesturing in Kelly’s direction. “This one isn’t really anything special. Not like she’s the key to the world or anything.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Zack growled.

“Yes it was. The contract stated that it was to be Rosalie Wright. Now, Mr. Wright can decide which daughter he wishes to protect. He may take this one and leave, understanding that any interference with acquiring Rosalie will be met with the death of his baby. Or he may choose to try and save the older one.” She looked to Wright. “Your move.”

Slater cackled. “Sophie’s Choice. Nice.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Kelly spat.

“Give me Kiley!” Wright demanded. “Give me my daughter!”

_Wait a minute…did he just say Kiley?_

Zack’s eyes widened.

That wasn’t his brother.


	29. Chapter 29

Wesley had been a fool. A goddamned fool.

Part of him had known this from the start—a part he’d done everything he could to bury under rationalizations and pain. He’d heard all the things the others had told him about Zack, heard and understood them on a purely intellectual level. But he hadn’t been interested in intellectual arguments so he’d ignored them. Willfully.

The man before him was not the monster that had murdered Fred. The eyes of that monster hadn’t reflected anything but malice and glee. This man’s eyes were filled with worry and fear, but not for himself. For himself, he’d accepted his fate. Perhaps he even welcomed it. No, he was worried about the baby. His niece. His wife and children, too. About the people he was about to leave behind.

The person who had murdered Fred was in this room, but it wasn’t Zack Morris.

Wesley drew in a deep breath, flexing his fingers around the stake Lilah had handed him. He forced himself to keep his gaze on Zack. He couldn’t betray a thing until the moment arrived.

“You’re going to sacrifice a baby?” Sam Seaborn—rather Willow—said behind him. “The Slayer I could understand, but—”

“The Slayer is one of the greatest threats to maintaining peace and stability with the supernatural world,” Lilah replied. “We are of the philosophy that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Besides, once Rosalie Wright hears that it’s her or her sister, she’ll do the right thing.” A beat. “Any day now, Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. We’re eager to move to onto better things.”

Behind Zack, Kelly gasped out a hard, “No, please!”

Wesley tightened his grip on the stake and shifted his gaze to Zack’s wife, trying not to blanch at the tears streaming down her cheeks. The other man—the one he didn’t know but seemed to know Zack—started cackling.

“Don’t worry, Kel,” he cooed. “I’ll be there for you to lean on.”

“It will be all right once the monster is dealt with,” Wesley said firmly. “You’ll see.”

Kelly shook her head and dissolved into hard, uncontrollable sobs.

“Hey,” the man he knew to be Sam Winchester said, “are we sure this is—”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish. Wesley burst into action, twisting on his heel and lunging at Lilah. She seemed to realize what was happening a second too late, and that second was what killed her. The stake sank into her chest with a sickening crunch of bone and muscle, blood fountaining upward. The room dissolved into a series of screams and gasps. He heard Ron Weasley yell, _“Stupefy!”_ and hard thuds hit the ground, but he didn’t look up. Instead, he watched as Lilah’s eyes shifted from shock to anger to understanding. He watched as the light went out for good.

“Wes?”

He looked up just in time to see the brown in Sam Seaborn’s hair start to melt back to red. Behind Willow, the man posing as Wright launched a few inches higher, his nose lengthening and his hair also returning to a fiery red. The man who had mocked Kelly lay on the floor beside him, unconscious.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, removing one of the vials of potion he’d stored on himself and throwing back another swig. The transformation halted and reversed.

“You killed her,” Sam Winchester said, a bit awed. “I… I didn’t know that was the plan.”

“Neither did I, until I got here,” Wesley replied, hesitated, then turned to Zack. He forced himself to meet the vampire’s stunned gaze. “I wanted to kill the person responsible for Fred’s death and I did. I…” He swallowed and shook his head. Words couldn’t begin to make up for the horrible mess he’d made of things and he didn’t want to try. Instead, he moved forward and began working on undoing Zack’s bindings.

“We still need the baby,” Willow said. When he looked up, he saw she was completely back to herself, swimming in the clothes she’d borrowed from Seaborn. She cast a sideways glance at Lilah. “And I have an idea of how we’ll do it.”

“I don’t have any spare Polyjuice Potion,” Ron said, his voice—Wright’s voice—pitching up in a panic that would have been funny on any other day. “All the stuff I have’s already been mixed with essence of demon hunter.”

“Hermione and I were thankfully prepared.” Willow pulled a vial out of her pocket—one with a big red X marking the side. “Just in case.” She stepped forward and plucked a hair off of Lilah’s head, then stuffed it into the vial. “Ron, I’ll need you to fix her clothes.”

“What’s wrong with ‘em?”

“Well, they’re covered in blood and there’s a big hole where Wesley staked her.”

Ron just looked at her blankly.

Willow rolled her eyes. “ _Scourgify_ for the blood. _Reparo_ for the hole.” She shook her head. “One of these days I’m going to get to use those damn spells.”

Ron looked at Sam and shrugged. “I’m rubbish at mending things. Hermione takes care of all that, bless her.”

Sam just nodded as though he understood and stepped aside.

Ron straightened his shoulders and pointed his wand at the body of Lilah Morgan. “ _Accio_ stake.”

The stake flew out of her chest with a sick _squelching_ sound that made everyone, even the vampires in the room, wince.

“Bloody disgusting,” Ron muttered, dropping the stake as soon as it touched his hand. “All right. _Reparo._ Nifty. And _Scourgify._ There you go. One evil wench outfit, good as new.”

Willow had already made the change, and Wesley had to say it was rather jarring seeing someone he’d literally just killed smiling in the middle of the room. The others seemed equally put off by it, as none could look at her as she started to strip out of Sam Seaborn’s clothes. Apparently, given that she wasn’t wearing her body at the moment, modesty wasn’t a concern.

“Is this…really weird for anyone else?” Sam asked, keeping his gaze pointed at the floor. “I mean, I’m used to weird, but this is…a different kind of weird.”

“Ron,” Willow said, slipping on Lilah’s shoes. “You should _Obliviate_ Slater.”

“Did she say obliterate?” Zack whispered. “I am in favor of that.”

“ _Obliviate_ ,” Willow corrected, fluffing out her hair. “So that he doesn’t remember what happened here. I mean, the suspect list won’t be long, but we might need to reuse some of these cover stories.” She twirled around. “How do I look?”

“Like an evil bitch,” Zack replied dully.

“Excellent.” Willow nodded at Slater. “Take care of his memory, Ron. Then you and I will go and get the baby.”

“What about them?” Sam asked, pointing to Zack and Kelly. “He’s supposed to be dust and… Well, we’re not sure what they would’ve done to Kelly, but I don’t think they meant for her to get out of here alive.”

“Harry’s Invisibility Cloak,” Ron said. “It’ll be a tight fit, the both of you, and your ankles might show, but it got us out of a load of jams like this one.” He nodded at Sam. “And your brother doesn’t need it as much, being that he’s a bit less conspicuous than two vamps.”

“You clearly don’t know Dean.” But Sam was smirking and had started for the door.

Wesley thought now would be a good time to make his own discreet exit. Before the others remembered that he was the reason they were here in the first place and decided it’d be poetic justice if he was collateral damage.

He hadn’t taken two steps before Zack called after him.

“Wes.”

Wesley paused, holding his breath.

“Thank you.”

He swallowed hard and gave a short, clipped nod, then followed Sam into the hall.

*~*~*

“Okay, this place is pretty boss.”

Buffy turned and aimed a grin at Rosalie, who had discovered the weapons arsenal and was helping herself to its contents.

The girl held up a sword. “Not enough people appreciate a good sword anymore. Did you ever use one?”

“Oh yeah,” Buffy replied, crossing her arms and watching, amused, as Rosalie took a few inexperienced swipes at the air. “Actually, that was how I killed Angel. It was very sword-in-the-stony.”

“Berk that I am, I missed the grand finale,” Spike said, coming up from behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “Found us a room, love. From the smell I’d wager it’s that wanker Dean’s. Bit Spartan, but it has a bed.”

Buffy snickered and patted his hand where it rested just below her naval. “Hint, hint.”

“I seem to remember a celebratory shag being on the docket after we got this lot sorted out.”

“Also known as the reason you got out of bed. Why don’t we put that on hold and you get some more sleep while you can?”

He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, and she felt they were pulled into a pout. “You’re no fun, Slayer.”

“You guys realize I can hear you, right?” Rosalie waved the sword to get their attention. “Might not have vampire hearing but I definitely remember the awkward birds-and-the-bees convo Nikki had to have with me because you two were humping like bunnies all the time.”

Buffy sputtered a laugh. “Yeah, she really would’ve been the worst person for that.”

“No,” Rosalie deadpanned. _“Dad_ would’ve been the worst person. And Cordelia the best, but that was also when they had just started fooling around so I can see why he wouldn’t have asked her to give The Talk.” At that, she hedged, the sass falling off her face, exchanged for raw vulnerability. “Actually, Buffy…can I talk to you?”

Translation: girl problems.

“Yeah, of course.” Buffy patted Spike’s hand again and pulled out of his arms. “You should go to sleep now,” she told him. “Want you all rested for later.”

He growled playfully and kissed her hard before turning and disappearing down the hall.

The second they were alone, Rosalie’s expression went from vulnerable to uncertain. She bit her lower lip and placed the sword on a long center table that Giles would salivate over. It had more than enough space for all the books ever.

Hell, get him into the bunker, and her Watcher would be like a kid in the candy store. If the candy store was stocked full of old books, spells, artifacts, cursed objects, and… Well, she hadn’t taken the full tour, but the Winchesters definitely had a cozy little hideout.

“What’s up?” Buffy asked Rosalie, moving closer so their conversation couldn’t be overheard. Girl problems always required discretion.

“I…” Rosalie rubbed the back of her neck. “This is weird. I know I’ve known you forever, but…”

“Bad mojo made the memories take a hike.”

“Yeah. Plus I was really close with Faith.”

Buffy softened, reached out to pat her arm. “I know. I’m… Well, Faith and I didn’t have the best of relationships, but she was…important to me. I’m sure there are things you’d only talk about with her—”

“There were,” Rosalie agreed quickly. “But this isn’t one of them. It’d be too weird.” A pause. “Did you ever develop feelings for your Watcher? Romantic feelings?”

Buffy grimaced before she could help herself. “God no. I mean, I love Giles but he’s like my father. He practically is my father. My real dad is such a…well, wanker, as Spike would say. But me and Giles? A world of yuck.”

“Damn, I wasn’t even thinking of Giles.” Rosalie went red in the face. “Wasn’t Wes your Watcher for a time?”

“Well, he tried to be. But no. He was never my Watcher and no, I never had a thing for him.” She shivered, trying to force the image that had popped into her head back into the bowels of Hell where it belonged. “Wes was much less a cross between Giles and your father when I met him. He was completely incompetent, arrogant as all get-out, and…really into Cordelia.”

Rosalie’s brows winged upward. “Really? Eww, I can’t see that.”

“Well, obviously, it didn’t stick. Moving to LA and leaving the Watcher’s Council is what…” What…what? Had put him on the path to essentially dooming the world? Even now, knowing what had happened, it was hard for Buffy to reconcile the image of Wesley as she knew him with someone who would align themselves with ultimate evil and attempt to eradicate the Slayer line. But that was a mental digression she need not explore at the moment. She shook her head and refocused. “Is this about you and Nick? About what Castiel said?”

Rosalie flushed harder, tearing her gaze away. “Well…I guess. And Faith was with Wesley, and he was definitely her Watcher once.”

“Faith and Wesley?” Okay, a new image to banish from her thoughts. “Yeah, there’s a match made in hell. Please tell me they weren’t banging the whole time, because that would just make a whole lot of memories really, really wigsome for yours truly.”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. As far as I know, it started right before Wes decided to turn me into a piece of fashion jewelry.” She rubbed her arms. “They’d gotten close after Fred died. Faith was helping him, or thought she was, at least. Having been…well, evil before.”

“I don’t think Faith was ever evil,” Buffy said softly. “Just…confused. She didn’t have a family and she wanted one so badly.” And now she was about to cry again, dammit. “It could’ve been different with us really easily. But I’m glad…you became her family. You and Nick, from the sound of things. You gave her what she wanted most.”

Rosalie nodded and sniffed hard, her own eyes filling with tears. “Yeah, well, that’s…kind of my problem. Faith and Nick were…together. I mean, she always acted like it was nothing but sex and they stopped screwing when she hooked up with Wes. But…”

“But you think…Nick was in love with her?”

“I don’t know,” Rosalie said miserably. “I mean…he took her death really, really hard. And he’s not like Faith. Faith I could believe was just…friends with benefits. Nick is…” She bit her lower lip. “I have these feelings. And there are times I think he does too. I mean, Faith used to give him crap for it all the time but she gave him crap for everything and I never knew when to take her seriously. But what if he is still into Faith? I don’t want to be the girl who competes with a dead woman. I also don’t know if I can…be his Slayer with these feelings complicating things, which, I know, so not a problem worth angsting over with everything else that’s going on, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And Castiel said that execution isn’t a penalty the Watcher’s Council uses anymore, but…what if they decided to bring it back?”

Buffy drew in a steady breath as she tried to process, well, everything, though doing so made her brain hurt. “You need to talk to Nick and tell him this.”

“What? God no. Mortifying much?”

“Rosalie, you’re the Slayer. And…I mean I don’t know him all that well, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I think Faith was probably a bit more on the money than you give her credit for.”

“But what if—”

“What ifs don’t matter,” Buffy cut in, holding up a hand. “There are other Watchers. I mean, Giles and I don’t really have the slayer/watcher relationship anymore, so he’s technically free if he ever wanted to get back in it. But…being the Slayer is hard enough without adding in being in love with someone you can’t have. Trust me, I founded that city. Angel was obviously never going to be a long-term guy, but I spent a year not trusting him, killed him, then spent the next year trying to stay away from him because…well, Angelus. And then he crushed me anyway. And when I started noticing Spike?” She barked a hard laugh. “It took being kidnapped, tortured, and killed before I realized what kind of man he really is and, more importantly, _stopped caring_ about what I was supposed to do or not do. Giles has had a decade to get used to the idea that Spike and I are…well, partners. Mates. Each other’s. He was furious when he first found out though. And if I’d spent that time caring…the most confusing time of my life would’ve been that much harder.”

Rosalie didn’t say anything, just swallowed hard.

“Point being, you need to be honest with yourself and with him,” Buffy continued after a beat. “Because even if he doesn’t feel that way about you, you’re right. It will complicate your relationship. Love makes people do dumb, dumb, dumb things. And you’re too important to have that kind of distraction.”

“Because I’m the Slayer.”

“No. Well, yeah. But you’re not the only one, no matter what the Council says.” She took the young woman by the shoulders. “Because you’re the Slayer, you do have a target on your back. You can’t afford to not have your attention completely on that target.”

“That kinda sounds like I should avoid boys completely.”

“People think that being in a relationship means splitting your attention between your partner and everything else. With the right guy, you get the right balance. In my case, Spike makes me better. And he has my back. I have a feeling Nick would be like that for you, too. I mean, look at what he did to keep you safe.” She gestured at the room around them. “This kinda thing? Fireable offense from the Watcher’s Council. But he did it for you.”

Rosalie took a moment to consider this before she nodded again. Then she grinned. “I’m kinda weirded out that you’re not weirded out.”

“Why should I be weirded out?”

“Me Slayer, him Watcher.”

“Well, eugh for me, definitely, but you do you.”

“What about the age difference?”

Buffy arched an eyebrow, cracking a grin. “Are you kidding? I was sixteen and dating a guy who was over two hundred years my senior.”

“Yeah, but he was kinda forever at whatever age he was sired.”

“That’d be twenty-nine, I think,” Buffy said. “No, Ms. Rosalie, you are so not getting me to throw a stone from this glass house. You’re older than I was with Angel and he’s younger than… Well, not Riley, but definitely Spike.”

“Uncle Spike’s going to be obnoxious about it.”

Buffy snorted. “Really? You think? You should’ve seen him when Dawn first started dating. But he’ll get over it. If nothing else, I can remind him that you’re just a year younger than I was when we got together.” She swallowed. “Right now is the quiet. Castiel said that this place would hold but it won’t be indefinite. And at some point…”

“I’m going to have to fight them, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are,” Buffy replied. “Typically we charge into danger, not the other way. But right now this is the best plan we have. And unlike slayers past, we have an army of super powerful friends who can do the fighting for us for a bit. I’d take advantage of the reprieve to clear things up with Nick.”

“Wow.” A nervous laugh rattled off Rosalie’s lips. “That’s going to be weird. And awkward.”

No sense denying it. “Yeah. But worth it, I think.”

“Not exactly encouraging.”

Buffy lifted a shoulder. “I could lie to you but I learned that that does you no favors.”

*~*~*

Apparently, a lot of people were afraid of Lilah Morgan. All Willow had to do was glare at some poor kid and demand that Kelly Wright be retrieved and handed back to her father for the baby to materialize. She did a lot of scowling, said a few threatening things about the Wrights and their future, and how Rosalie needed to be in their custody within forty-eight hours or some demented baby lojack would trigger on Kelly and she’d be beamed back to Wolfram and Hart.

“You don’t need to give these gits ideas,” Ron had whispered to her after they’d secured the infant. “That sounds like something they could do.”

“We won’t give them the chance,” Willow replied with more optimism than she was likely allowed. “Take her and Apparate back to the Hyperion. You’ll have to go outside—this place is warded.”

Ron had nodded and disappeared down a corridor, and Willow had turned to find Lilah’s office. All she needed to do now was get the cloak from Dean and the Morrises would be free and clear.

What worried her was that this felt a little too easy.

When she pushed open the door to Lilah’s office, it was to find Harry—who needed to re-up his Polyjuice Potion—looking rather annoyed but resigned and holding what appeared to be the decapitated head of Dean Winchester by the hair. Donna stood in the middle of the office, snapping pictures with a cell phone.

Dean’s eyes popped open and he sobered immediately upon seeing Willow. “Shit,” he said.

Harry swore and released Dean at once, reaching for his wand at the same time. Only since he wore Josh’s clothes, his hands were covered and he had no natural intuition of where his pockets were.

Willow held up her hands. “It’s Willow. I changed costumes. And what the hell were you doing?”

Donna rolled her eyes and tossed her the phone. “We got the bracelet,” she said. “Dean wanted a few pictures of him in the Invisibility Cloak since Harry swears he’ll never wear it again.”

Willow snickered and flicked through the photos. A selfie of Dean’s floating head. One of Dean holding his own head aloft. A few clearly accidental captures of random body parts and a series of a very agitated Harry holding Dean by the hair as Dean experimented with various facial expressions.

“I’m glad you had the time to goof around,” Willow replied, tossing the phone back to Donna. “But what the hell were you going to do if I was Lilah?”

“Go invisible,” Dean answered, and drew the cloak over his head again.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“You’re back to you,” Willow said. “Take your Polyjuice Potion.” She waited until he was Josh again before continuing. “Well, Lilah’s dead. Wes…went off script and killed her. No one knows yet but they could find out at any minute. The Morrises are in the room with her. We need to smuggle them out under the Invisibility Cloak.”

Dean’s head reappeared. “What about me?”

“Walk out with Harry and Donna. If someone asks, you’re…I dunno, their wedding planner.”

Dean arched an eyebrow.

“Sam left as soon as everything went down, which is really for the best because we don’t know if we might need that disguise again. Wes… I think he left too. Ron has Kelly and will Apparate with her once he gets outside.”

Donna frowned. “That was…easy.”

“I know and don’t jinx it,” Willow said quickly, then nodded at the door. “If you’ll follow me.”

*~*~*

Zack turned to Kelly with eyes wide of confusion and excitement. “That was too easy.”

Kelly had stopped crying, but she didn’t look too happy either. “We aren’t out of here, yet.”

Zack sighed. “I know, but they got BK out, so that’s the main thing. We can take on a fight if they don’t come back.”

“BK?”

“Baby Kelly,” Zack explained with a smile. “Don’t think Wright expected us to stick around before he named her after you. We are gonna have to figure out a better way to tell you two apart. Baby Kelly. Baby, Kelly. I’m already confused.”

“Me too. Plus BK is Burger King.”

“We don’t know. She may grow up to be a fatty.”

“Didn’t you learn the lesson about body shaming back in high school?”

He nodded. “Didn’t say she wouldn’t be attractive, just that she may really like Whoppers.”

Kelly rolled her eyes and looked down at the unconscious Slater. “What do we do if he wakes up before we get out of here?”

Zack followed her eyes, but his senses were really more focused on the bloody body in the corner. The bloody warm body that smelled like all the Whoppers at BK must smell to all the burger kings.

“Fuck,” Zack groaned as he realized how long it had been since he’d ate.

Kelly gave him a knowing look. “I know. I’m hungry, too.”

Now he rolled his eyes. “Me: kidnapped. You: stuck with all our food.”

“Whatever.”

Zack was gonna try to distract himself with another quip, but a hunger pang hit him instead. He’d been so focused on Buffy before that he hadn’t really taken much blood himself. Just enough to get to healing again.

Taking a step forward, he edged toward Lilah’s body. “Kel?”

“Yeah?”

“On a scale of one to evil, how bad is it to eat a dead woman?”

“Evil, no. Tacky, maybe?”

Zack really didn’t care. “Have you ever…had the real stuff? From the tap?”

Kelly shook her head, though he could see curiosity in her eyes.

“It will probably make more sense to find her body ravaged by vampires than to just have a stake to the chest,” he rationalized. His voice was shaking as he leaned down to touch the blood on the floor next to her. He brought his fingers to his lips and moaned.

“That makes sense,” Kelly said and quickly crouched next to him.

They made eye contact briefly before slipping into game face and diving headfirst into Lilah Morgan’s flesh.

“Jesus Christ!” Lilah Morgan said a few moments later.

“Huh?” Zack felt the blood dripping off his chin as he looked up at…Lilah Morgan.

“Oh God!” Kelly’s face was covered in blood as she looked up in embarrassment.

If he didn’t know that was Willow and they were still in Wolfram and Hart, he would have fucked his wife then and there. “Fuck, you’re hot,” Zack told his wife.

“Fuck, ya’ll gross!” Willow snapped. “Now, throw this on and let’s get out of here. So I can go home and bleach my eyes.” She tossed a shimmery cloth at them.

“Is this Harry’s?” Kelly asked.

Zack’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s manage some mischief.”

*~*~*

If anyone had simply walked by, they would have glanced at her watcher and figured he’d found a quiet bedroom to study a new fancy old book.

His back was rested against the headboard as the text was splayed in his lap. His head was bent down in what may be seen as concentration.

She knew he was asleep.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped in the room and quietly shut the door. After making her way to the bed, she gently sat down on the edge.

Nick scared the shit out of her as he yelped like little girl.

“Hi,” she responded unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

He cleared his throat. “Hey,” he said with a much deeper and gruff tone than normal.

“Nice try,” she teased.

He sighed and nodded in defeat. “What’s up?”

This wasn’t going to be easy. “Whatcha reading?”

He closed the book at the question. “Nothing.”

“Really sold that, Hunter.”

He shook his head. “I just saw a book during the tour with ‘Slayer’ in the title. Seems the Men of Letters had some historical records separate from the Council. I was comparing.”

“The execution?”

“Actually, William the Bloody.”

She picked up the book and sat it on the nightstand. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I did and I do. Trusting you and trusting him are not a package deal, love.”

“I don’t want this fight.”

He shrugged. “Me neither.”

“Agree to disagree?”

“Pretty sure that’s the story of our relationship.” He gave a small smile. “You okay? You seem…” He paused a beat. “You okay?” he asked once more.

She swallowed hard. She needed to say it. But it scared her to think she could lose him. She’d lost so much and adding a broken heart to the mix just didn’t sound fun. But Buffy was right and this wasn’t going to work on their current road. This was the quiet before the next storm and their chance to regroup and reorganize.

“You loved Faith, right?”

His eyes darkened slightly at the name. “Faith,” he said slowly before looking down at his hands in his lap. “Yes,” he said after a few tense seconds. “I did.” He shook his head. “I do.”

“I thought so,” Rosalie tried and failed to keep her voice steady.

Nick was still looking down. “Growing up, I really didn’t have anyone. Never met my dad and my mum…I don’t know where she is or if she’s still alive. I became a ward of the state and then the Council in return. I went to their school and did their bidding, but never was…I never had friends. Not real honest friends. Until Faith. And you.”

He looked up and his eyes were glistening with tears. “You’ve had more practice with this grieving process, Rose. I’ve only loved two people and I just lost one. I know you lost her too. She was a sister and a mentor to you. She was my best mate.”

A tear came down her cheek. She nodded. “But you _loved_ her.”

He rolled his eyes and sniffled. “For the last time, Ro, it was never about that. It was two fucked up people using their fucked up issues with sex as a fucked up distraction for how fucked up we are. Were,” he added with a wince. “It wasn’t romantic. She never loved me like that and I never loved her. She thought she had a chance to make something with Wes. And I always have been—” His eyes went wide and he stopped talking.

“Been what?”

“Nothing.”

She shook her head. “Not now, Nick.” Her voice trembled. “Don’t shut me out now.”

“Rosalie,” Nick warned.

“You always what?”

He swallowed hard, closed his eyes right and then opened them to look at her. “I’ve in love with someone.”

Her voice dropped. “Who?”

He looked away. “It isn’t proper. Or legal,” he said wrinkling his nose. “Not that it’s _that_ big of a deal, but still more perverted that I would like to come across.”

Her heart skipped a beat. If that wasn’t her, she was gonna either cut a bitch or turn him in for pedophilia. “Who?” she asked again.

“It started off a bit of an obsession. I read the files for the potentials and then when I read it, I knew. I knew she was perfect. For everything. In every way. That’s why I flew to America before getting permission. I made myself Watcher before I ever got assigned.”

“Why?” A beat. “We are officially calling me it, right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Really? Was I the backup plan?”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little conceited to assume, Rose.”

A growl tore from her throat. “Nick.”

He looked up in surprise before flashing a weary look. “The past year has been…I thought it would fade with time. Get over it as you say. But…” He looked down again. “You are every fucking thing good in this world. Light and good and love and family and innocence and everything I never had. Everything I don’t think I can be. Even with all the tragedy and horror…you’re better on your worst day than I am on my best.”

Tears filled her eyes. She reached over and took his chin in her palm, forcing him to look at her.

“I’m not good enough for you. That’s why I never asked. It’s also why I need to step down as your Watcher.”

“You’re right,” she said. After noticing the pain in eyes, she clarified. “About the Watcher part. Because…because I can’t do it either.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick choked out.

Without thinking she leaned over and kissed him. It was actually her first time at making the first move. She’d snuck in a couple moments in her public school days, but it was slobbery boys with grabby hands. Nick barely kissed back. He seemed almost in shock.

Pulling back, he grabbed the hand that was still under his chin. “Rose? Are you telling me you actually have feelings for me?”

“I didn’t say that.” She couldn’t help but smile.

Nick pulled her toward him, now apparently ready to return that kiss. Lips and tongue and teeth and hands and _oh my_.

Her mind was a fuzzy blob of jubilation, relief, excitement and horniness. As she flipped Nick flat on his back, one of those emotions took the driver’s seat.

“Ro?” Nick said when she pulled back and straddled his body, her naughty bits lining up perfectly with his. She rubbed her aching clit against his erection. The friction of the clothing only seemed to make it that much more intense.

“Well, this makes me feel rather foolish about not…” She reaches down and kissed him, rubbing against his more. “Oh fuck, love.” Nick murmured into her mouth. “Not doing this sooner.”

“Mmmhmmm,” she agreed, savoring the perfection she felt in the moment. “Your fault.” Another long kiss. “Agree.”

She felt his hands run down her back before firmly grabbing her ass and pulling her down on his groin. He thrust up his hips for maximum impact and she felt a tingle begin to grow deep inside her.

It was likely embarrassing how quick it took her, but she didn’t particularly care. A minute? Two? She’d never gotten off with any help before. But Nick’s hands, his kisses and the unspoken promise that it was only the beginning were overwhelming.

Nick took one hand from her ass to tunnel his fingers through her hair, pushing her mouth down to him. “I got you,” he whispered.

Her body exploded. She felt a scream or a yell or some loud noise escape her, but his mouth captured and muffled the sound. He rode out the waves of pleasure as her orgasm came and then gently drifted away.

She pulled her mouth back and rested her forehead against Nick’s. She could feel he was far from finished, but she was going to need a minute. “That was nice,” she gasped.

He gave a low and cocky chuckle. “Indeed.”

She gave a smile as she took another hard breath. “I think I’m gonna need to practice that move.”

“I believe I can help with that.”

His lips found hers once more as her libido revved up once again. She was down for a trip to pound town.

“Rosalie?”

That wasn’t Nick. That was someone else. Someone close. Someone in the room.

“Bloody hell!” Nick snapped, in a pathetic attempt to shield her by simply covering her butt with his hands.

“Apologies.” She couldn’t tell if Castiel sounded apologetic or not. “I knocked, but you were—“

“Yeah,” Rosalie interrupted quickly, rolling off her…yeah, that was the next deep conversation. “I was here. Don’t need a recap.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed. “Your father is on the phone,” he said, holding up a cellphone.

Rosalie and Nick exchanged an uncomfortable look. “Well, this is awkward…er.”

Nick nodded, looking at the phone like her dad was going to pop out and kick his ass. “Awkwarder indeed.”

*~*~*

It took Spike a few minutes to remember just where the bloody hell he was when he awoke. Over the last few years, he’d gotten rather used to staying rooted in one spot. Sunnyhell, Los Angeles, New York, and then Los Angeles again. Of course, he didn’t much care where he called home so long as he woke up next to the Slayer.

But Buffy wasn’t beside him when he shook sleep from his eyes, nor was her scent in the room. It wasn’t until he was halfway to the door that the clouds in his head thinned enough for him to remember exactly where they had landed. And whose bed he’d claimed as his own.

Spike ventured down the hall and found Buffy passed out over a pile of books at a large meeting table. He took a moment to appreciate the sight she presented, then decided the angle she was at couldn’t be a good position for anyone.

“Buffy, love,” he said, seizing her by the shoulder and giving her a soft shake. “Rise and shine.”

“Mmm.” She yawned and blinked, then sat up straighter when she saw where she was. “Did I seriously fall asleep doing homework?”

“Looks to be that way, yeah.”

“I swear I was just talking to Rosalie.” Buffy scrubbed a hand down her face and smiled sleepily up at him. “You feeling rested?”

“Bit more so, though I don’t think I kipped all that long. Can feel the sun’s still out.” He scratched at his stomach. “Gonna need to find us a butcher here soon. What were you readin’?”

“Some of the slayer history these Winchesters have. I’d never heard of the watcher who got horny for his slayer and wanted to read up.”

Spike slid into the seat across from her, arching an eyebrow. “Can’t be all that raunchy if it put you to sleep.”

She narrowed her eyes. “It’s not erotica, it’s history. And I’ve never really thought about it—watchers and slayers, because, eww. But apparently, Faith and Wesley were doing the horizontal mambo before he cashed in his chips at Club Evil. And now with Rosalie and Nick—”

“Hussat?”

“She’s in love with him,” Buffy explained casually. “And I’m pretty sure he’s in love with her. If she took my advice, they should be making with the happies right about now.”

Spike shot out of his chair so fast it nearly toppled over. “Rosalie? Little Rosalie? She’s getting shagged by the watcher?” He burst into game face before he could help himself—not that he was of a mind to. All the better for ripping a certain someone open. “That sodding pervert. I’m gonna tear his lungs out.”

Buffy leaped to her feet and snatched him by the arm before he could storm down the hall and proceed with the throat ripping. “No. There will be no disemboweling today.”

He stared at her, his brain short-circuiting. “You heard yourself, Slayer. Bite Size’s being—”

“Rosalie is barely younger than I was when you rode me hard for the first time,” she replied wryly. “You kept me up all night, if I recall correctly.”

Well, yeah, but that had been different. That had been…brilliant.

“She’s Zangy’s daughter,” Spike blurted. “He trusts me to keep her safe.”

“Unless Nick’s into autoerotic asphyxiation, I don’t think we can reasonably say she’s in danger.” Buffy had the audacity to grin at him. “This is a part of watching the others grow up. We had the same conversation when Dawn started dating.”

“Still not too bloody thrilled about that.”

“You realize she’s in her twenties now.”

“Not thrilled about that, either.” Spike sighed and rolled his head back, forcing himself to relax. “Just gonna take some getting used to, is all. Nothing ever bloody changed before I met you.”

No, because he’d been a properly evil git, eating the townies wherever he went and devoted to an immortal madwoman. More had changed when he’d fallen for Buffy than he’d realized—the part where he actually gave a rot about others being one, and had to contend with the fact that people, unlike vampires, didn’t stay in the same place forever.

Not that he was in the same place anymore, but he wagered he was one of the only exceptions to that bloody rule.

“It’s a part of what having a human family is about,” Buffy said. “And we do…have a human family. They get older and stop being kids and eventually get plowed by some not entirely unattractive British guy.”

He growled. “That git hurts her…”

“Yeah, if he hurts her, then you can make with the disemboweling. I’ll even help. Now…” Buffy loosened her hold on his wrist but didn’t release him, instead dragged her fingers up the length of his arm. “Since you’re awake…you wanna go break in Dean’s bed all properly?”

Let no one say that Buffy Summers didn’t know how to get Spike thinking about other things. He growled again and, before she could respond, tossed her over his shoulder.

“Spike!” she cackled, squirming. “I can walk, you know.”

“Won’t be able to after I get through with you,” he said. “So get used to be carted around.”

Buffy laughed again when he kicked the door to Dean’s room closed behind them. She was still laughing when he tossed her onto the bed, her eyes bright with challenge. “You haven’t been able to wear me out yet,” she teased, tearing off her shirt. “My stamina is greater than your stamina.”

“Yeah, well it turns out, I’m properly motivated.” He shucked his jeans and jerked her pants down her legs. “Try not to scream, love,” he said when he was naked and above her. “Wouldn’t want to make the angel blush.”

Buffy laughed again, but the sound died the second he drove inside her, melting into a whimper.

And a few minutes later, she did scream. Hard.

“There’s one,” he panted, and kissed her before she could fight back.

*~*~*

Rosalie had never felt like a teenager more in her life than she did at that moment. Sitting on the bed, inches away from the first man who had given her an orgasm, and trying to sound like she hadn’t been about three seconds away from having a dick inside her for the first time.

“Hi, Dad,” she said a much breathier voice than she’d intended. God, she sounded like she belonged on Cinemax. “I mean—what’s up?”

There was a long pause. “What’s going on?”

“What? You called me.”

“You sound…different.”

Crap. What were the odds that he’d pick up on that?

“I was practicing,” she said. “With a sword.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick arch an eyebrow, his expression something between incredulity and amusement.

“They have swords here,” she continued in a rush. “And other weapons. I never get to play with swords.”

“Are you stalling or telling me what you want for your birthday?”

“Definitely Option B.” Rosalie cleared her throat and sent Hunter a death glare when he started to shake with silent laughter. Apparently, amusement had won out. “Do you have an update on Kelly?”

Her father was quiet for a moment, then released a long sigh. “You knew about that, then. Yes, despite possibly being the worst plan in existence, the baby’s safe. Though I had to watch as someone who looked like me and spoke with a British accent brought her inside, which is exactly as weird as it sounds.”

She swallowed. “And Uncle Zack?”

“He’s still undead. So’s your Aunt Kelly. They haven’t gotten back yet, but by all accounts, this plan went off without a hitch.” Wright fell quiet again. “Listen…Cordelia and I have been doing some thinking. And…I think you should stay where you are for a while.”

Rosalie frowned, held out the phone to study it. “I wasn’t planning on leaving until—”

“Wolfram and Hart are dealt with.”

Her heart stuttered. Ever since she was a child, Wolfram and Hart had been in the periphery. They were the reason she and her father had abandoned life on the road to begin with—without them, he wouldn’t have met Spike, who was the reason he’d met Cordelia. There had been no time in her life when Wolfram and Hart wasn’t a threat in some capacity, or the objective of Wright & Pryce Investigations hadn’t been ultimately to take them down.

What her father was essentially saying was she couldn’t go home. Ever.

Tears burned her eyes and she sniffed. “Buffy said that I’ll need to fight them. Slayers don’t run away from big evil.”

“No, they don’t,” Wright replied softly. “Look, kiddo, I know that the day’s going to come when you don’t have a choice. But that’s not right now. After thinking I was gonna lose you to thinking I might lose your sister… You’re just getting started on this slayer thing. You’ve been training all your life but not like this. It’s different now.”

“But—”

“You think this is easy for me? It’s not. I want you to come home _yesterday_ , but this isn’t about what I want anymore.” He released a long, shaky breath. “I’ve talked to the Winchesters. Well, Sam. Not sure if you remember him, but he’s offered to let you stay at the bunker for a while. Until you, Spike, and Buffy can figure something out.” A beat. “And Nick. I guess.”

“Spike and Buffy?”

“Yeah. That’s the other part of this. I’m going to ask that they stay with you.”

“You’re going to ask that Spike and Buffy uproot their lives in Los Angeles to babysit me?”

“No,” Wright drew the word out in a way that she knew she was testing his patience. “I’m going to cash in the favor I did for Spike ten years ago when I helped him save the woman he loves.”

“You mean by forcing her to become a vampire.”

“She’s still around, ain’t she? And I’d feel better knowing you had the world’s living slayer watching your back.” A pause. “If Faith was still here, I’d ask her. But she’s not—”

“Because she died saving my life. Believe me, I don’t need that reminder.” The words came out a bit harsher than she’d intended, and a tear skating down her cheek. “So…have you talked to them about this? Are they on board?”

“Not yet, but they will be.” A pause. “I love you, Rosie. And when the day does come that you don’t have a choice but to fight, I want to make sure you’ve done everything you can to beat the fucking odds the way Buffy did. Okay?”

Another tear chased the last one. She nodded, then, after realizing her father couldn’t see her, cleared her throat and said, “Okay.”

“Okay. Now…can you put Spike on?”

Rosalie raised her eyes to Castiel, who had stood there watching her throughout the exchange. “He wants to talk to Spike now.”

At that moment, a hard _thump_ sounded from somewhere down the hall, followed by a furious roar.

Castiel’s eyes went wide. “We are under attack,” he said, and started for the door.

“No,” Rosalie said, holding out the phone when the angel turned around. “I know the difference between Spike’s attack roars and his—uhh—happy roars. This would be the latter. And you’re about to get an eyeful.”

It took a moment for the tension in Castiel’s body to dissipate, but it did. He stalked forward and took the phone from her. “Again,” he said, then turned and walked out.

*~*~*

It felt good to have reason to smirk. He listened to a few seconds’ worth of shouts on the other end of the line and was outright chuckling by the time Spike snarled his greeting into the phone.

“Whoever this is just signed his bloody death warrant.”

“Fifteen hundred miles between us and I can still cock-block you like the old days,” he replied. “And I’m not scared of you.”

“Not me you need to worry about, mate. Slayer was on her way to a real screamer.”

“Yeah, I know. I remember the signs.” Wright paused. “The baby’s safe. Your crazy friends pulled this off. And—”

The front door of the Hyperion burst open then, and in came Dean, followed by the blonde whose name Wright had misplaced and a guy wearing the same face as their new downstairs prisoner. The one the Governor of California was now keeping company. It took him a moment to remember that had been Harry’s disguise.

“Any trouble?” he asked.

“None,” Dean said. “It’s like they wanted us to escape. Sammy get out?”

Sam Winchester emerged from Wright’s office, his features having been restored to ridiculously good-looking. Wright had told Hermione that she need not hurry to give him back his pretty face—he didn’t much like the way Cordelia kept finding reasons to go talk to him.

“Dean,” Sam said, waving his brother over. “We’ve been talking here and I need to go over something with you.”

“Always a good sign,” Dean muttered. “What happened now?”

“It’s about Wright’s daughter. She’s fine, but he’s asked for a favor and I think we should give it.”

“Another favor?” Dean glared at Wright. “You’re lucky my dad liked you so much.”

“You’re welcome for the seventeen times I saved his ass on the road, and the three times I saved yours,” Wright replied. “Yeah, I kept count. Don’t tell me you don’t. And where’s my brother?”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, closed it, then opened it again. “The witch took the cloak and I haven’t seen them since then,” he replied. “Right behind us.”

Wright looked to Harry, whose features were beginning to shift back to normal.

“I’ll go look for them,” Harry said, starting for the door and nearly tripping over the pant-legs that now dragged the floor. “Right after I change.”

Wright nodded, then rolled his eyes when he realized Spike had been yelling at him for the past few seconds. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he barked. “Listen—I need to ask a favor.”

“You chose a bloody rotten time.”

“Just…listen and after you agree, you can go back to defiling my friend within hearing distance of my teenage daughter.”

“Same teenage daughter who’s currently being shagged by her watcher?”

Wright’s stomach dropped and his blood started to pound. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known it was coming—hell, that conversation with Hunter the other day had been as close as he’d ever get to giving the relationship his blessing. But that didn’t mean the bastard wasn’t very fucking lucky for each one of those fifteen hundred miles that separated them.

Or that Wright was going to handle this with the cool aplomb he’d promised Cordelia.

“What the _fuck?”_

Spike gave something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle before he heard the phone being jerked away.

“Zack,” Buffy said, her tone dry. “You had a favor to ask us?”

“Yeah, but now it’s two.”

“Your daughter’s eighteen and the guy loves her. Take a deep breath and be thankful it isn’t someone else.”

“I am going to kill him, you know.”

“I know. And I’m sorry Spike told you like that. He’s…” She paused. “Totally not laughing his undead ass off right now.”

“Serves you bloody right!” came from the background.

“Now,” Buffy said, her voice a bit louder. “About that favor?”


	30. Chapter 30

Sam sat silently watching his former best friend lie unconscious on a dungeon floor. Anger brewed with every passing minute and he didn’t know how much longer he could wait before shouting at the man to wake up and start talking.

The moment Josh groaned and rolled over, Sam’s patience snapped. “How long?” he growled. “How long have you been working with them?”

“Sam?” Josh sounded groggy and confused.

He pressed on. “Was it last year? Was it when you and Donna went to England? Fuck, Josh, was it back with Bartlet when we all were caught in that assassination attempt we never were allowed to talk about? How the fuck long have you been working for Wolfram and Hart?”

Josh pulled himself up and looked at Sam. He still looked somewhat confused, but he also had a slight crazed look with his messy head of curls. “I never worked _for_ them. I was only working _with_ them. To keep us safe.”

“Safe?” Sam barked a laugh and stood up to walk up to the bars. “They murdered people, Josh! Innocent people!”

“These people aren’t innocent. They were vampires and freaks and weirdos that liked monsters and witches and freaks. The real innocent people are all the ones who live their lives oblivious that there’s some cosmic war going on. They’re the ones we have to protect. And Wolfram and Hart wants to protect them.”

“No,” Sam said shaking his head in anger. “They want to hide and manipulate from the shadows. The want to use people and governments as pawns for power and money.”

“So they sound like Republicans.”

“Josh,” Sam threatened in a low voice.

“Whatever. You made my point. These people want to keep it all secret. Maybe it helps them out, but it keeps the rest of the world out of chaos.”

“Does it though? Wouldn’t everyone being safer knowing the truth? The good and the bad? Instead of being pawns, they can actively take steps to protect themselves.”

“Are you fucking nuts?” Josh scrambled off the floor and stood in front of him. “People still haven’t accepted gays and brown people. You expect them to be okay with finding out that there’s more trying to kill them than illegal immigrants and GMOs?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “But the status quo isn’t working. Something’s gotta change.”

“You can’t change this, Sam. You’ll die before you get a chance. If not Wolfram and Hart, the CIA or any number of magical freak departments around the world will kill you. Nobody thinks you have a good idea. The best thing for you is to just give up and drink the Kool-Aid.”

Sam took a step back. “No.”

“What’s a better choice, Sam? Get yourself killed with some noble sacrifice that nobody will ever know about or be elected to the highest office in all the world and help hundreds of millions of people.”

“Josh, I have a son now and I refuse to—“

“What? Take him from his dangerous mother? She’s almost ended the world. Twice. And not in the melodramatic sense. Literally.”

“Don’t,” Sam snapped, reaching through the bars to grab Josh’s shirt and slam him into the steel. “Don’t you say her name. Don’t you dare try and tell me she won’t be the best damn mother.”

“Which will be nice since you’ll be dead. Do you want your kid to not even have a father? Or mother? Because she’ll die, too. She’ll do some big crazy magic bomb or something after you die. She’ll make herself a target and they will eliminate her. They always win.”

“No. They’ve always won, but they won’t always win.”

“Yes they will. So either drink the Kool-Aid or give up all your hopes and dreams to helping this world. You can’t do both. It’s suicide.”

Sam shoved him through the bars, relishing silently as he stumbled backward and landed on the ground. He couldn’t take anymore. Without a word, he turned and stormed up the basement stairs.

*~*~*

Nick rolled himself to the edge of the bed and placed his feet on the floor. Rosalie hadn’t moved since Castiel had left them alone. He couldn’t fathom the stream of thought going on inside her mind. Fuck, he wasn’t even sure he wasn’t having a dream.

“He doesn’t want me to come home,” she said in a small voice.

“Well, no.” He placed a hand on her knee. “We are in the middle of an apocalypse, love. You asked about your sister and everyone. Is everything all right?”

“Ever, Nick. He doesn’t want me home ever again.”

“I’m sure once Wolfram and Hart are brought down that—”

“Brought down? Seriously?” She stood up and started pacing the floor. “They’ve literally brought all the evil in my entire life. In countless lives before me. You think we can defeat that?”

He saw her shaking and wanted nothing more than to sweep her into him arms and back to bed. He also knew she was right. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“My mom was killed because Wolfram and Hart. Buffy was turned because Wolfram and Hart. Nikki and Fred were murdered because Wolfram and Hart.”

“Rose,” he softly pleaded.

“Faith!” She looked at him with such pain that he nearly cried. “Faith is dead because Wolfram and Hart!”

“I know.”

“We can’t beat them!” she shouted. “We can’t win and I can’t go home!”

She dissolved into sobs and his restraint withered away. Hopping up, he took her in his arms. He felt as hopeless as she, but he wasn’t about to show her now. She’d comforted him when he’d broken and he damn well was going to pull it together now. “Well, I say our odds are better than ever.”

She pulled back with an incredulous glare. “How can you say that? Your best friend was just murdered.”

“My best mate just sacrificed herself to save the key to winning this whole bloody war.”

Rosalie shook her head. “I’ve been in this my whole fucking life, Nick. I’ve fought and lost over and over.” She choked back another sob. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can.” He shook her until she looked at him. “You bloody well can. You are the Slayer now, you daft girl. They came for you when you were unprepared and unaware. It’s been a year, Rose. Just a damn year. You haven’t trained. Not really.”

“Yes I have,” she snapped.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “You’ve played. We all have. You, me, Faith and everyone. We played with the training and the patrolling and the pretending. Pretending everything was fine after what happened. Wes was fine. You were fine. I was fine. We were all bloody not fine!”

“You and Faith—“

He rolled his eyes. “Were pretending. She was pretending she was fine dying and then…well, accepting herself. And I was pretending I wasn’t stupidly in love with the only person on the planet I couldn’t have.”

A small smile cracked on her tear stricken lips. “Stupid?”

“God, yes,” he said with a smirk.

Rosalie sniffled and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “That’s kinda harsh.”

“The truth hurts,” he teased with relief she seemed to be calming down.

“Do you think that once.” She bit her lip before continuing. “Once you…once we make it official…or even if you quit…you may not feel so…stupid anymore?”

He blinked a couple of times in shock. “You think this is just some phase? That this is some grass is greener thing?”

“I don’t know!”

He grabbed her face and pulled it to him, capturing her lips in a kiss. As he felt her arms wrap around his neck, he slipped his arms down and wound them around her waist.

Honestly he forgot what they were even talking about by the time they pulled back for air. “Hussat?” he breathlessly said.

“Huh?” Rosalie gasped.

He chuckled. “What was happening?”

She blushed. “I don’t remember.” After a second she shook her head and her dreamy smile fell away. “Wolfram and Hart. And you.”

He scowled with the reminder. “Yes. You’re wrong. About all of it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nick,” she groaned.

“And I’m right. Which is pretty typical, if I may concede.”

“Not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” He paused. “Well the typical part, but give me a bloody break, Rose.” He saw her open her mouth to protest, but pressed on. “We have a whole group of people on high alert this time. Nobody’s pretending anymore. We have these Winchester blokes, plus the Hogwarts Alumni All-Stars. We have four vampires, one I don’t trust for rubbish, but I know you do so don’t even start. One’s a former Slayer and we have a fucking angel. But most importantly, we have you.”

She didn’t say anything for a few moments. “You know, I think I’m gonna miss you as my Watcher. You’re pretty good with the motivational speech thing.”

“Yeah, but the truth is I don’t know shit. I’ve been faking it from the start.”

“Well, hopefully the next one isn’t a hottie or you may be in trouble. I’m not sure it’s you or I just have a type.”

“Only one way to find out,” he teased as he led her back toward bed.

*~*~*

Willow held her breath all the way to the lobby floor. When the elevator doors opened, she exhaled loudly upon the sight.

It was empty. There wasn’t anyone or anything in view. The receptionist’s desk was empty and the only sound was the soft music that played in the lift.

She knew it was too easy. Something was definitely wrong. But the door was in eyesight and she had enough endurance to sprint for the exit.

“Let’s go!” she whispered and began to run. Willow heard a thud as she saw the front glass shake. Zack’s hand was poking through the cloak and grasping the handle. The rattling of the door and the white knuckles clasped around the metal immediately told her the problem.

“Move back,” she hissed. “I’ll blast it!”

_“STUPIFY!”_

Willow felt her body slam into the door. As her body crumpled in shock and pain, she crashed to the ground.

_“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!”_

She watched helplessly as Zack and Kelly toppled over, the cloak slipping away to reveal them frozen motionless on the floor.

“Don’t try anything,” the British woman spoke for a third time. The clicking of high heels in the empty lobby echoed in an ominous beat. “I’d love an excuse use another Unforgivable Curse today.”

Willow didn’t recognize the woman now standing before her with a pug-shaped nose and a sneer. Her wand was at the ready and Willow stood no chance of busting a move without jeopardizing herself or her friends.

“What? No reaction? Mudblood.” She perked a brow. “So you aren’t Ron. Pity.”

She tasted blood from where her face had hit the door. “Shut up.”

The woman chuckled. “Oh, Hermione, I hope that’s you.” She flicked her wand and sent Willow’s head slamming into the door once more. “It would make shutting your stupid little mouth all the sweeter.”

“Nice try,” Willow replied woozily.

“You’re not Potter. He never takes his hand off his wand. Even the other day here he kept his hand near his pocket. If you aren’t one of them…” Her eyes lit up in delight. “You’re the freak of nature! Willow Rosenberg, right?” She snickered. “You’re such an abomination that Hogwarts gave you a job just to keep you from destroying the world.”

Willow growled and tried to pull herself off the floor, slipping on Lilah’s broken heel.

“They should have killed you the first time, but the Americans were too scared to do it themselves. The British were just too stupid. They thought studying you made more sense. And now you made another freak that’s going to have to die.”

“Fuck no, bitch!” Willow snapped as she felt a raging spark crackle beneath her fingertips.

“Oh save it,” the woman responded with an eye roll. “Like I was honestly going to try and fight _you_.” Glancing off down the hall she laughed. “That’s why we use them.”

The paralyzing terror hit her before she had a chance to look. Turning her head she saw the Dementors gliding down the hall toward them. There were half a dozen of them and they all seemed focused on sucking the first soul.

First every good thought and memory and feeling left her, leaving her mind trapped with nothing but sadness and pain and fear. By the time they were a few feet away she was left holding nothing but complete and utter despair. But as their icy breath came closer to her mouth, she felt even that slipping away to a numb sense of nothingness.

It barely registered with her brain that there was a blinding flash of light around her. She didn’t flinch at the thunderous shatter of glass as broken shards rained down upon her. As the fog around her mind slowly lifted, she felt as though she was coming back to Earth from a trip to the moon.

“Come on!” She felt a hand grab her by the arm and hoist her to her feet. Blinking her eyes back into focus she saw him.

“Harry?” she whimpered.

“I’m so sorry, but we can’t stop for chocolates now! I can’t hold them back long!”

She nodded lamely and stumbled toward the door. She noted he stopped to help Zack and Kelly before grabbing the cloak and herding them all out the lobby and into the open air.

Her knees buckled when Harry Apparated them to the front door of the Hyperion. Zack and Kelly also crashed to the ground.

Harry pulled open the door to the building and shouted, “Help! I need some help out here!”

*~*~*

“What the fuck?” Dean rushed out of the lobby doors and blinked at the scene that greeted him. “Hey!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Sammy! Zack!”

“We need chocolate,” Harry said, stuffing his Invisibility Cloak back inside a pocket. Not that Dean understood how the cloak could fit into a pocket, but there were more important things to worry about. “Lots of it right now.”

Dean blinked again. “Your, uhh, priorities seem a little off, my man.”

Wright burst out and swore loudly, Sam and Ron not too far behind.

“Willow!” Ron yelled, and ran over to her. “What happened?”

“Dementors,” she croaked out, still shuddering.

“Bloody hell.” Ron hiked her into his arms. “Hermione! We need chocolate!”

“Seriously,” Dean muttered, bending with Zack Wright to pull the other Zack to his feet. “Chocolate?”

“It counters the effects of Dementors,” Sam said as he scooped Kelly into his arms. “They suck all the happiness out of you. Isn’t that right?”

Harry nodded, still looking a bit shell-shocked. They negotiated their way into the lobby, where they found a dazed, worried Sam Seaborn and Hermione, who was conjuring bits of chocolate with a few waves of her wand in a move that Dean had no time to appreciate.

“Here,” Hermione said, taking a large chunk of chocolate to the governor. “Give her this. I’m going to infuse some in blood for Zack and Kelly. Ron, lift the Body-Binding curse.”

Ron nodded dumbly and did as she asked; almost at once, Zack burst into action.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” he demanded before turning to Kelly. “Are you all right?”

“A bit weak,” she said, and Dean noticed for the first time that she was covered in blood. Though from the look of things, it wasn’t gore for her so much as dinner, and he really didn’t know how to feel about that.

“What happened?” Seaborn was asking Willow, whose was munching on the chocolate he’d handed her.

“Dementors,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “We got that much.”

“Knew it was too bloody easy,” Ron said, his arms crossed.

“There was a witch,” Willow said after swallowing another bite. “She hit Zack and Kelly with the Body-Binding jinx and me with a stunning spell. She…” She gulped. “She seemed to know you.”

This was met with a round of dazed stares.

“Which one of us are you talkin’ to there, Red?” Dean asked.

“Harry. You three.” Willow popped another mouthful of chocolate. “She was British. Knew who I was but I didn’t recognize her. Not that that means anything, really. I associate almost exclusively with Potters and Weasleys, outside of the Hogwarts staff.”

“Willow…” Hermione edged forward after giving Zack and Kelly a glass each, full of what Dean could only imagine was the worst milkshake ever. “This actually came for you right before Harry brought you back.” She reached into her back pocket and handed over a small envelope. “I don’t think the owl knew where to go, so it just left it here.”

Willow paled and ripped the envelope open. She paled even further as her eyes moved over the contents.

“What is it?” Harry demanded. “Willow?”

“I… I’ve been…” She swallowed, tears filling her eyes. “I…”

“You’ve been given the sack, haven’t you?” Ron said bluntly.

Hermione scowled at him. “Ronald!”

Ron didn’t so much as flinch. “You have, haven’t you?”

A beat, then Willow offered a numb nod, not reacting when Harry tore the letter from her hands to read it himself. “They say I’ve put the International Statute of Secrecy at risk for the last time,” she muttered. “They can’t really prosecute me because I’m technically not…one of them, but they can keep me from reentering the country.”

“This isn’t from Hogwarts,” Harry said, his mouth twisted into a snarl. “It’s from the bloody Ministry. They can’t keep you from teaching. McGonagall would never stand for it.”

“How am I supposed to teach if I can’t enter the country, Harry?” Willow jumped up, the symptoms of the Dementor attack apparently having faded. “It’s not like Hogwarts is set up for online courses or anything like that.”

“Just one of the ways we’re better, I might add,” Dean whispered to Sam. “Can you imagine living in a world with no internet porn?”

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t take the bait, killjoy that he was.

“We’ll fight this,” Harry said, crumpling the letter. “I’m the head of the Auror Office. Hermione’s on the fast-track to becoming Minister. They won’t get away with this.”

“Harry, no.” Willow shook her head, sobering. “Do you realize how quickly this can devastate your career? The magical community wasn’t exactly wild about having me in the first place—imagine what associating with me will do for you or Hermione.”

“I’m the Chosen One, the Boy Who Bloody Lived.”

“Yes, and if Voldemort were to return, that would mean something to them. But it doesn’t. You know better than I do that the people in your world don’t have the longest memories.”

Hermione swallowed and stepped forward, placing a hand on Harry’s arm. “She’s right,” she said softly. “When the Ministry wants something, they will lean on the _Prophet_ to get public opinion on their side. It hasn’t changed all that much since the Second Wizarding War ended. And there are plenty of people who would happily throw the lot of us under the bus because of that Rowling woman, anyway. People who are bound and determined to dislike you because those books came so close to exposing the truth.”

“Bitch,” Ron muttered, this time scraping up a chagrined smile for the glare his wife leveled at him. “What? You were thinking it.”

Willow released a shaky breath, though it was clear she was still rattled. “I don’t know what to do,” she said. “But…” She looked at Seaborn. “I guess this makes scheduling visitations a lot easier.”

“No. There will be no visitations. You’re going to marry me,” Seaborn replied bluntly. “I mean, I’ll ask, of course, with a ring and everything. I’ll even get down on one knee. Both knees. I’ll lie on the floor if you want me to. But you’re going to marry me. And you’re going to help me be the person who shows people the world we’re really living in.”

Dean wasn’t sure, but that sounded like one bastard of a bad idea. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said. “Do you have any idea how the average person handles learning about this stuff? ’Cause we do, Sammy and me. It’s not pretty. People don’t just sit down and take it when they learn their world’s full of monsters. And they sure as hell won’t take it when they learn that Harry freaking Potter isn’t just a kid’s story.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied dully.

“No offense, but dude, I’m still trying to wrap my brain around that one and I’ve been in the life for more than twenty years now. Thought I’d seen it all.”

“I can’t marry you,” Willow blurted. “We haven’t even had a chance to talk yet.”

“You can and you will, and we’re talking right now,” Seaborn replied. “Willow, I’m through pretending that I’m not in love with you. I was through pretending that before my former best friend convinced you to get out of my life. I’m telling you, right now, if it’s a choice between you and a presidential run, _it’s not a choice_. You make me better as a man, and if it comes to it, you’ll make me better as a president. And that’s that.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Then Kelly, having finished her blood-milkshake-from-hell, released a soft sigh. “I think I’m gonna cry.”

Zack grinned and threw an arm around her shoulder. “And _that’s_ the most normal thing that’s happened in months.”

*~*~*

Buffy had to admit—the Winchesters did have some pretty toys. She was currently admiring a hammer enclosed in a display case. By looks alone, it wasn’t unlike the one she’d once wrestled away from Olaf the Troll God. Though, to be fair, she wasn’t sure if the hammer was an actual weapon or just a replica of Thor’s Mjölnir. Either way, it was a hell of a conversation piece.

If not for her vampire super senses, she never would have heard the angel approach. Also, Castiel had a distinct scent. Kind of like cotton-candy. Made her think his blood might be so good it could light up a vampire from the inside. This was not a theory she cared to test. Maybe in the field someday. Maybe.

“Is this real or decoration?” she asked, waving at the hammer.

“Sam and Dean helped rid an event called ComiCon of an infestation of pixies. Dean insisted on taking this as a souvenir.”

Buffy turned to him, smirking. “So if I swung it really hard at a Fyarl demon…?”

“It would shatter.” Castiel gazed around the room. “Where is Spike?”

“He went to find a butcher to get us fed.”

“You trust him to be among humans, even though he lacks a soul.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “Are you asking me a question or making an observation?”

“I have never encountered a vampire willing to table his baser instincts.”

“Yeah, well, Spike’s different. Always has been.”

“It is interesting to observe,” Castiel replied. “Particularly in the case of a vampire. Remove a soul from a human and the capacity to care diminishes, but not the intimate knowledge of what is right or wrong. A demon’s primal urges are at odds with humans’, though.”

“Remove a soul from a what now?” Buffy was certain she’d heard wrong. “You’re telling me people can just be…soulless.”

“Yes, to devastating effects at times. It truly depends on the person. Much like I assume a vampire’s ability to change depends on the demon.”

Well, there was a terrifying thought. For as much as the role of _souls_ had played in her life, Buffy had never once considered the possibility of a soulless person, not vampire, wandering around. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but knew she had to ask anyway. “Is it possible to get a soul back, if it’s been lost?”

“It is possible, but difficult,” Castiel replied. “Sam was without his soul for months after he returned from Hell. He became what I believe you would call a sociopath. Not in the same way as a vampire—he did not target Dean or people he knew, but he would have sacrificed them without remorse if it furthered his agenda.”

“And…Sam’s cool now?” He’d certainly seemed so during their brief interactions.

“I am not sure how cool Sam is, being that he is in California and the weather there can be very hot.”

“Does he have a soul, Cas?”

“Oh, yes. For many years now.”

Buffy blew out a breath. “Good. Because I’m pretty sure Spike and I are staying for a bit and it’d be really awkward if I had to take out one of our hosts.” When Castiel frowned, she waved a hand. “Wright asked us to keep an eye on Rosalie. Stick out here as she trains. I’m not sure if that means _here_ here or if Spike and I should start apartment-hunting, but I’d feel better if I could stay as close to Rosalie as possible. Especially until her new watcher arrives. Though it’s already kinda cramped with Nick and Spike here. Once your friends get home, I’m honestly not sure if all of them can coexist without someone—probably Nick—getting hurt.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You would be surprised. There isn’t much Sam and Dean cannot handle.”

“Yeah, well, don’t give Spike any ideas. He loves a good challenge.”

*~*~*

“So, is that it, then?” Dean asked Wright after the big group talk in the lobby dispersed. The wizards were debating their next move, the witch and the politician hashing out their fucked-up relationship, and with the vampires fed and all the children back where they belonged. Dean was eager to hit the road.

Wright had remained absent through most of that conversation. On the phone, as Dean had understood it. He approached now looking exhausted and somewhat war-torn. In his hand was a medium-sized cloth bag, pouching with the contents of something.

“You’re okay with Rosalie staying with you?” Wright countered, crossing his arms.

“Sure. She was a good kid, I remember that. And it’s not like we couldn’t use the muscle.”

“I’ve asked Spike and Buffy to stay, too. Did Sam tell you that?”

Dean’s jaw tightened and he forced down a rush of annoyance. “No, he didn’t. I owe that guy a punch.”

“He will definitely kick your ass, son. I’m sorry to say.”

“I’m tougher than I look.”

“So’s he.” Wright sobered. “And I’m actually counting on that because, since I’m not going to be there, I need him to keep an eye on the watcher.”

“The watcher?”

“Nick’s in love with Rosalie, which I’ve just barely begun to accept. And apparently now they’re…physical.”

Dean’s eyes bulged. “What? Little Rosie? Your daughter, Rosie? She’s just a kid!”

“She’s almost eighteen.”

“Still, she’s jailbait.”

“Yes.” Wright released a long, measured breath that spoke to just how hard he was focusing on maintaining his control. “And I’ve... No, I haven’t accepted that and I doubt I ever will, but I can’t stop it or change it, and as people love pointing out, Faith was even younger and definitely more fragile than Rosalie is now when I…” He trailed off at seeing the look on Dean’s face. “Let’s just say I wasn’t in the place to make good decisions then. She was a kid and I was fucked up and…why am I telling you this?”

“So you’ve not only known Buffy the Vampire Slayer for a decade, but you have a slayer as a kid and you fucked one at one point?” Dean shook his head. “Now I know why it took me so long to meet one. You were keeping them all to yourself.”

“Look, just… I can’t stop her from making stupid decisions, but if he hurts her, I’m trusting you and Spike to make sure he’s never found.”

“Not a problem. Tons of places to hide a body in Kansas.”

“Good.” Wright snickered, then extended the bag. “I’d like you to take this with you.”

“You get me a going away present?”

“It’s the bracelet—the one that Faith…” Wright sighed and looked away. “I want it out of Los Angeles, as far from Wolfram and Hart as possible. I know we need to study it, figure out how they could use it against us, but the guy I trust with research recently tried to kill my daughter. You guys have the resources to do this?”

Dean nodded and accepted the bag, somewhat surprised at how heavy it felt in his hand. “Nothin’ we’re not used to.”

“None of this is what you’re used to, Dean. Trust me. Your dad and I saw nothing like this on the road.”

“Well, there’s a lot Sammy and me have seen that he never did, either.”

Wright grinned. “We’ll have to catch up properly sometime.”

“I got a beer with your name on it.”

*~*~*

A shower and a change of clothes went a long way to making one feel better and vampires weren’t an exception in Zack’s mind. He wouldn’t admit that he was still a little shaken from those Dementors, even after a chocolate blood smoothie. He’d also earned a nasty scar on his back from the chaos in the van during the kidnapping that was a little tender and far from gone, but he was optimistic that in time it would fade into a long list of bad memories.

He was grateful for the clothes and decided to go give a quick thanks to his big brother before going to the room where Kelly was settled in with the kids. Then, he planned to snuggle with his little family and sleep for the next 24 hours straight.

The apocalypse may or may not still be ongoing, but he felt he deserved a fucking break.

“Hey,” Zack said to an awkward looking Giles. The man was standing outside a door, but looked neither ready to knock or walk away.

“Oh, Zack.” Giles seemed startled and off his usual game.

Zack figures they all were a little shell shocked at the moment. Taking a deep breath, he channeled his vampire senses. “My mom?”

“Yes,” Giles said hesitantly. “She hasn’t wanted to talk to me since…”

“Yeah,” Zack replies with a nod. “Guess I better check in on her. She may be pissed at me too.”

“I highly doubt,” Giles said with a small smile. “I let her know you were safe, but I imagine she’d like to see her boy herself.”

Zack stepped up to the door and gave a light knock before opening the door. “Hey, Mom.”

Melody was propped up in the bed on her phone. “I’ll call you back,” she said before hanging up and looking to her son. “Zack,” she said with a sad, watery smile.

He walked over and gave her a big hug before sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. “How are you?”

“Overwhelmed,” she said with a trembling voice. “Lost, upset, horrified, devastated and just plain exhausted.”

“Oh.” Zack gave a quick glance at Giles at the doorway before turning back to his mother. “I meant the bite. I’m so sorry about everything with Darla and Slater.”

Melody began to cry and Zack reached out to give her another hug. He noted the way she didn’t return the embrace and it wounded a little part of his soul.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Slater,” Zack added after he pulled back. “Honestly with everything that’s happened this past year, he hadn’t really crossed my mind. I definitely didn’t expect him to come after you of all people. Especially since I’m not even sure if that’s really Slater or some evil clone.”

“Evil clone?” She asked.

“Yeah,” he tried to diffuse her with a smile. “We have all kinds of crazy. Did you know Harry Potter saved my life earlier? Maybe that Rowling chick will start a new series on me.” He frowned. “Probably not a children’s book though.”

“Did you know about this?” Melody said turning he eyes to Giles. “That there’s evil clones of people?”

Giles shifted uncomfortably. “Well, there was Lisa. Before last year I knew her as a very unstable woman married to Xander. Now I am not entirely sure how Wolfram and Hart manipulated people and events. There may be individuals who have been cursed to act out of their control and minds and memories may have been altered. I haven’t really had time to process it.”

“Process,” Melody said darkly. “Process? How do you process this? How do you even begin to figure out what the hell _this_ even is?”

Zack looked to Giles for help because he didn’t know what to say.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Melody declared. “In the past year I’ve lost my husband and my son and my life. I’ve been told everything I ever knew was a lie and there’s this whole secret world of vampires and demons and slayers and magic and evil clones and I’m just supposed to accept it and pretend it’s normal.”

“Melody,” Giles said softly.

“It’s not normal!” She snapped. “None of this is normal! I tried. I really did. After Derek died…I don’t know. Instead of grieving I tried to pretend that everything was fine. That I’d been unhappy before in the dark and this was better. That we…” Looking at Giles she shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t pretend anymore.”

“If this is about earlier, I’m so sorry I left you alone.”

“I’ve always been an afterthought to you. You’ve cancelled dinner reservations because Buffy called to chat.”

“She’s my daughter.”

“No, she’s really not. Just like Zack Wright isn’t my son. And his children aren’t my grandchildren and a part of me was relieved when they took Kelly and not Rosie or William.”

Well, this was getting crazy. “Mom,” Zack softly said. “You didn’t want Kelly hurt.”

“No I didn’t, but I also will be the first one to admit that this ridiculous game of pretending this is one big happy family has to stop. That’s why I called your Aunt Pam and am going to Portland tomorrow.”

“You’re leaving? Now?” Zack was shocked. “But what about the kids? Rosie and William will be devastated.”

“Those children are a mess. Rosie has no ability to get along in the real world. All she talks about is vampires and demons and witches. We had to start homeschooling her because she came to school with a dagger in her backpack. And William is a traumatized little boy who goes around pretending to be happy and oblivious to everything even after his own father tried to kill him. The best thing for them is for them to come to Portland with me. I’ve already bought the tickets.”

“No.” Zack stood up and stepped away from the bed. Anger and hurt clouded his mind and blurred his vision.

“You’re vampires!” Melody shouted. “How can you raise children? _Human_ children. Look at the damage you’ve already done. How much more do you think they can take?”

Giles gave a humorless laugh. “So you plan to remove them from their parents and family?”

“You’re not their family,” Melody countered.

“I bloody well am!” Giles snapped. “Blood makes you genetically related, but I’ve been their family since the day they were born. And Buffy is my daughter whether you accept it or not.”

“Zack,” Melody pleaded to him. “Do the right thing. There’s no hope for you, but they have a chance to live a normal life.”

“This is normal. Their normal. _Our normal._ And if you can’t handle the truth, it’s best you leave. But know one thing: if you take my children away from Kelly and I, you better make sure we’re dust first. Because I love you Mom, but nothing will become me and my family.”

Zack turned to walk out, stopping only long enough to give Giles a squeeze on the shoulder.

He forgot his mission to thank his brother and headed straight to his wife and children. After his mother’s threat, he didn’t plan to leave them alone until she was gone. Even then, he may have to implant those trackers they give out at the vets office.

“Hey,” Kelly softly called when he opened the door. She gave him a happy smile as William laid napping at her side. Rosie was sitting next to her mom, but hopped up on the bed and launched herself toward her father the moment he crossed the threshold.

He caught her with ease and buried his nose in her golden hair as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are we staying here tonight or can we spend the night with you?” The girl pulled back to kiss him on the cheek.

“I think we might stay here tonight,” Kelly answered. “Safety in numbers and your dad and I could use a night of sleep with someone who can put alarm charms on your bedroom door.”

Rosie flashed her parents a devilish smile before frowning slightly. “Dad too? Because he hasn’t really came over here much lately.”

“Dad too,” Zack said before giving her a final squeeze and putting her feet on the floor.

“Cool. Can I stay in your room? Mom can keep Will.”

“Actually,” Kelly began somewhat hesitantly, looking up at Zack. “I think maybe your dad and I will stay in here and you two can sleep next door.”

He couldn’t help the smirk he gave her. “Really?” he asked.

“Really?” Rosie parroted. “Does that mean you and Dad are back together? He can move back home?”

Kelly pulled her gaze away from him to look at their daughter. “Yeah, I think so. If he wants to.”

“Hell yeah,” Zack replied. He walked to the bed and slipped in Rosie’s old spot, giving his wife a soft kiss on the lips.

“Best day ever!” Rosie shouted as she pumped her fists in the air. “I got to hang out with Hermione today! She’s my hero.”

“Yeah? Well we got saved by Harry Potter,” Zack teased.

“Awesome!” Rosie tan and jumped on the bed, wiggling her way between her parents. “I asked Hermione if she could make me a bag like she had that holds everything. She said she might make me one when everything settled. I’m going to pick a Hogwarts bag.”

“Interesting,” Kelly said with the fake enthusiasm parents give their children who talk too much.

“Did you know Hermione’s daughter is named Rose too? And her son Hugo is my age! I wish I could go to Hogwarts, but I’m not from Great Britain. Hermione said there were schools over here so maybe I will get a letter when I turn eleven.”

“You’ve been to Hogwarts, sweetie,” Kelly told her. “I was pregnant with William and you were a little girl. Remember the party for Dumbledore?”

Rosie shook her head. “Mom, we couldn’t meet Dumbledore. He’s dead.”

Zack frowned. “No, I remember it. That’s when I became a vampire. And there was Lecter and…” He gave his wife a weird look. “Did we do a minstrel show?”

“There was something musical we practiced. And we got our rings.”

Rosie folded her arms and gave them both deep scowls. “Dumbledore died years ago. He couldn’t have given you anything. Are you sure you even went to Hogwarts?”

Zack looked at his wife and child with horror. No, he wasn’t sure. He remembered it all like it was real. Oz had died. Lecter had died after almost killing him. And they had been given the rings. He looked at his hand and wondered now whether they had been wearing something similar to what was handed out at the vet’s office. Or worse. Something like the bracelet that had killed Faith.

*~*~*

This son of a bitch was so not getting away again.

Dawn released a long, steady breath, trying to find her center, or whatever else that crackpot witch had told her to do. The witch she’d unfortunately been forced to kill, because, well, not all witches were Willow. But in the time between first walking into her self-help seminar and firing the last of her handy-dandy witch-killing bullets, Dawn had found some of the advice she’d absorbed helpful.

Like the benefits of staying calm. Clearheaded. Not letting anger get the best of her. Even in times like now, when she was so close to killing the shapeshifter that had somehow managed to evade capture for three freaking cities now.

This better be the time Dawn killed it dead, because this was becoming a matter of pride. She was Dawn Freaking Summers, kid sister of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and she was not going to be outsmarted by some stupid shapeshifter.

But this was it—the end of the road. Dawn edged nearer the home owned by the now-deceased professor. The one who had been caught, as early as a half hour ago, on a bank’s security camera with the telltale glowy eyes. Though she knew it was there, Dawn patted the pocket where she kept the fancy silver blade she’d managed to sweet talk a pawnshop owner into selling her on the cheap. While she’d prefer to use the gun, her knife was the first piece of weaponry she’d gotten on her own, and it had not once let her down.

Since the front rooms of the home were dark, Dawn didn’t realize, until she was on the porch, that the front door was slightly ajar. Her heart skipped, disappointment threatening to yank the floor out from under her.

_No. Dammit, I’m so close._

Still, she prodded the door open wider and swept into the entry hall, gun in one hand and flashlight in the other. A faint light glowed from down the hallway that branched off to the right, and—yes—she could hear something. Something breathing hard—labored.

She debated calling out, but that was how the shapeshifter had eluded her the last time. Made her think someone was hurt. Dawn pressed her lips together, swallowed, and edged nearer. The floor seemed to be on her side, in that there were no telltale creaks as she approached what had to be the kitchen. One step, then another, and another. Now she could see blood on the floor—bright red, which meant it was fresh. Her throat tightened, the flashlight in her hand suddenly slick with sweat. Crap, her body hated her sometimes.

She had just gotten close enough to crane her neck around the corner when a breath of air made the hair by her ear flutter, and she became aware that someone was behind her.

“Trick or treat,” the thing drawled, and before she could even think to whirl around, she was launched head-first into the wall, her gun and flashlight hitting the floor hard.

“Dawnie,” it said, chuckling. “Honestly, this is getting embarrassing, don’t you think?”

She gasped and rolled onto her stomach, willing the world to stop moving.

“If only big sis were here to help you.” The thing seized her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the floor so hard she actually saw cartoon birdies. “Maybe you wouldn’t have to go around playing slayer.”

The world was still pinning, but Dawn was better at collecting her bearings than most creatures of the night gave her credit for. She fumbled for the silver blade in her pocket, found it, and jabbed it blindly into whatever part of the shapeshifter she could reach. Its hands, fixed on her shoulders, had no chance of stopping her. The next second, it had howled and fallen to the floor beside her, and was snarling something rather nasty when the air cracked with a gunshot. Then it stopped moving and fell silent.

It took Dawn a few seconds to piece together what had just happened. Had the thing landed on her gun and shot itself? No, the gun was several feet ahead of her, pointing in the wrong direction.

“You all right?” a woman asked.

What?

Dawn rolled over, blinking back spots. Eventually, the scene before her deblurred enough for her to make out blonde hair and a worried, if not resigned face. Also, the woman had the gun trained on her.

“If you don’t mind,” she said, then held up a cellphone with her free hand. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Just checking the eyes. Had to be sure.” She lowered the gun and began to walk forward. “I’m guessing you came here for the same reason I did.”

“You’re a hunter?”

The woman nodded, a soft smile lighting her lips. “I’m Mary.” She extended a hand. “Mary Winchester.”


	31. Chapter 31

Willow wasn’t used to not having answers, and she definitely wasn’t used to having to search this hard to find them.

An hour had passed since the Winchester brothers had taken off. Longer since Harry had ushered her, Zack, and Kelly back to the Hyperion and she’d discovered she was barred from returning to the country she loved. The only place that had ever truly felt like home. That alone was too much to process, and she couldn’t even begin to mentally unpack Sam’s solution of marriage. It was too much all at once.

Thankfully, things around the Hyperion were never quiet for long. Once she sent her order for a distraction to the universe, it delivered.

Zack all but flew down the stairs to the lobby, his eyes flashing when he saw her. “There you are,” he said. “I need to ask you something. Actually, you and Harry and whoever else. They didn’t leave, did they?”

Kelly was on his heels, looking worried.

_Great. Thanks, universe._

“Nope. Wright set them up in rooms on the second floor. Sam and me, too.” Sam was on daddy duty, having insisted on letting Willow take a break from him and motherhood so she could think over his proposal. Because he was considerate like that.

Considerate and the father of her child, the jerk. Couldn’t he be just a little bit douchy? Just enough to make the prospect of marriage seem less like something she might want? She’d been so certain a few days ago that she and Sam were a bad idea for multiple reasons, not the least of which were his political ambitions and the fact that she called England home. One of those things wasn’t true anymore.

When Willow came back to herself, she found Harry, Ron, and Hermione were plonking down the stairs, each looking exhausted and somewhat annoyed, though resigned. Each had their wands at the ready.

“That was fast,” Willow muttered.

“Vamp speed,” Zack said. “Look, I… I need to ask you something that’s going to sound crazy.”

“If you need to ask _her_ something, why’d you interrupt _my_ beauty sleep?” Ron replied sourly.

“Because you’ll be able to fill in the gaps. I think.” He looked back to Willow before tossing her something small and gold. The ring. “Where did I get this? Where did _we_ get them?”

Willow frowned, studied the ring in her palm for a moment to make sure it was the same one she’d seen him and the others wear ever since their first trip overseas as a group. “Umm, Dumbledore made them. Based off of the Gem of Amara. He gave them to you when we went there for that wacky performance thing you and The Dysfunctionals put on.”

Zack’s face fell. “Shit.”

“What? You knew Dumbledore?” Harry asked, his face a mask of surprise. “How? He’s been dead for over twenty years.”

That couldn’t be right. It was in keeping with Rowling’s version, sure, but Willow had always assumed that was one of the many inaccuracies since she _had_ met Dumbledore. “No,” she said slowly, “we met him. I think it was a birthday party or something? Snape was there, too.”

“You’re barking,” Ron said with his usual bluntness.

“It was his birthday. I…” But no, that didn’t make sense. Willow frowned, her temples beginning to throb. Suddenly, she had a very clear image of Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting in her classroom, twenty years younger. Teenagers. That couldn’t be right. Neither could the image of Angelus and Clarice sitting down to dinner with them like they weren’t soulless killing machines. Yet that was there, along with more impossible things than she wanted to consider. “What the hell?”

Zack nodded. “Exactly.”

Willow turned to Harry. “I never had you in class, did I?”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “You feeling all right?”

“I just…I had this memory of you three being in my Defense Against the Dark Arts class.”

Ron burst out laughing. Hermione looked concerned.

“How’d you manage that?” Ron asked. “You’re younger than we are.”

“I know.” She _knew_. And then she understood, looking down at the ring again. “Our memories have been altered.”

“Or you’ve all gone toys in the attic,” Ron said under his breath. Hermione elbowed him.

“This isn’t the first time,” Zack said through his teeth. “Wolfram and Hart made Spike and Buffy forget about this place—about my brother. Then there was that night that was so beyond fucked up we don’t even talk about it. And then we went to Hogwarts to play at Snape’s birthday party. Only we _couldn’t_ have because he was dead, Dumbledore was dead, and _what the hell happened_ , Willow?”

She had no answer and that freaked her out. The memories in her head didn’t align with the things she knew. Moreover, she hadn’t even blinked when she’d met a fully adult Harry Potter two years ago after having the memory of a teenage Potter sitting in her classroom. It was as though the second McGonagall had made the introductions, those memories had been locked away.

“If Dumbledore didn’t make those things,” Zack said, pointing at the ring Willow still held, “then we don’t know where the hell they came from. Which means we don’t know what they hell they can do. Maybe they’re…I dunno, soul suckers. Or whatever it was that killed Faith. We’ve just been _wearing_ these things and we have no idea what they can do!”

Willow frowned at that, then at the ring again. “But we do know what they can do. We’ve seen you wear these in the sunlight. You and Spike spent three hours pretending to stake each other when you first put them on, so we know it keeps you from going dusty. If it sucked souls, Wolfram and Hart would’ve used this to take your soul…well, at any time.”

“I haven’t had my ring since before I lost my soul the last time. And how do we know that the ring had no part in it?”

Willow eyeballed the ring. “Why would they just take your soul and not Kelly’s? Or Buffy’s?”

“Buffy’s can’t be taken and Kelly…” Zack gaped for a moment, his opening, closing, and opening his mouth again. At length, he shook his head. “Well, maybe they were planning on taking her soul. We don’t know!”

“I can find out,” Hermione said from behind him. “If that ring’s been jinxed, it should be pretty simple to figure out.”

Zack’s brows winged upward. “You can tell if there’s a soul-stealing trigger in this thing?”

“Mate,” Ron said, snickering, “if a dark wizard’s so much as sneezed on it, Hermione’ll tell you when and what kind of cold was catching that month.”

“Will it take long?” Zack asked.

“Nope,” Hermione said with a grin. “I asked Professor McGonagall long ago the spells she and Professor Flitwick used to determine Harry’s Firebolt hadn’t been jinxed. All of which came up on the Charms N.E.W.T.”

Zack blinked. “Is that supposed to make sense?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “It means that she can make sure there aren’t any bad spells on it. And whatever she can’t do, I can. But I think they’re fine. Seriously, Zack, if the rings weren’t exactly what we thought they were, why would they let you wear them for so long without…triggering the big bad evil?”

“You’re asking me what the rationale is behind something that’s irrational,” he snapped. “Why would anyone lure us across the pond to play a party for a dead man, get me vamped your ex-boyfriend killed, try to drive Spike out of his mind and then just…hand over a bunch of rings that make us invulnerable? Does any of this sound right to you? ‘Cause it sure as fuck doesn’t to me.”

“One of many questions,” a new voice said from the entrance, “I hope to answer over the next few days.”

Zack, Kelly, Harry, Ron, and Hermione whirled around at the same time. Willow rose to her feet.

A very pretty woman stood in the doorway. She had long dark hair and an easy smile, and was dressed in a smart business-suit. Her gorgeous eyes hinted at some Asian descent, but it was impossible to tell on first glance.

“My name is Sabrina Deanne,” she said. “I am here on behalf of Magical Congress of the United States of America. Given how busy you all have been and the noise you’ve been making, we think it’s time we all became acquainted.”

*~*~*

The second they’d hit the road, Sam had conked out. Which was fine, because the insanity of everything that had happened kept Dean’s mind spinning enough on its own. Not that they’d never dealt with insanity before—it was kind of their thing—but this particular insanity required more time to absorb. Starting with how a routine hunt to kill a stupid holy zombie had culminated in learning people like Harry Potter and Buffy the Vampire Slayer weren’t just kiddie stories. Not only that, their understanding of demons, witches, and vampires—which had been pretty damn solid when they’d left the bunker—was suddenly open to a world of reinterpretation.

Plus, wasn’t like this insanity was going to go away anytime soon. From the sound of things, the Winchester Brothers were now the super special guardians of their very own vampire slayer, and a famous one and her vampire lover—because yeah, that wasn’t fucked up—were essentially new tenants who didn’t have to pay rent.

Sam had too big a heart. Granted, Dean didn’t figure he would have tossed Rosalie Wright out on her ass, but letting two vampires move in, especially when they weren’t the sorta vamps the Winchesters were used to dealing with, was something that would absolutely have their dad rolling over in his grave.

And yeah, they still had to figure out where they were going to house their new roommates. Dean glanced to the velvet bag in which the bracelet that had claimed Faith’s life. Their list of things to figure out was hella long.

Dean cast Sam a glance and, upon determining his brother wasn’t about to wake up and help him start sorting through this, pried his cell phone from his pocket and called Cas.

“Hello, Dean.”

“We’re on the way home, finally,” Dean said, trying to keep his voice low. Let no one ever say he couldn’t be considerate when he put his mind to it. “What’s going on there?”

“I have taken Rosalie and Nicholas to get pizza. Rosalie is currently on her fifth slice.”

Dean smirked in spite of himself. “Love me a girl who can eat. What about the bloodsuckers?”

“I imagine they are currently fornicating in your bed. It seems to be their post-patrol ritual.”

The smirk vanished. “They’re whatting in my bed?”

“Fornicating,” Castiel replied conversationally. “After Spike returned from acquiring a large amount of blood, he suggested that he and Buffy go on what they call _patrol_. From what I gather, it’s their version of a hunt, without a case. Rosalie advised that _patrols_ , to her recollection, tended to culminate in the vampires copulating loudly and suggested we give them some space. Particularly since I was forced to interrupt them earlier when Zack Wright called. They were not happy.”

Dean just stared at the empty road ahead. “You…caught them in _my_ bed?”

“Yes.”

“And you…didn’t kick them out of my room?”

“I thought about it, but Spike said it was about time that room saw more action than the one-handed variety.”

“Son of a bitch.” This he growled loud enough to wake up Sam, who sat forward, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “I’m so gonna dust that fucker.”

“I don’t think that would be wise. Rosalie seems rather attached to him. And I’m sorry, Dean, but I believe Buffy would…” There was a muffled sound of someone else speaking. “Yes, Rosalie agrees that would be very bad for your health.”

“I am not going to let those bloodsuckers kick me out of my own—you know what? Forget it. I’ll deal with it when we get home.” Dean disconnected the call with a hard punch of his finger, wishing fervently for a cell phone equivalent of slamming the phone back into its cradle. Without taking his eyes off the road, he said to Sam, “The vamps are _fucking_ in my room.”

“So I heard,” Sam replied with a yawn.

“I might never forgive you for this, just so you know. Simple job. Easy. And somehow we end up in the cast of Harry freaking Potter and letting vampires crash at our place.”

“Dude, the Harry Potter stuff was amazing. You can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that.”

“By virtue of the fact that I got to wear the Invisibility Cloak, just barely,” he replied with a growl. “Do you have any idea what we just got ourselves into?”

“Not yet,” Sam admitted. “But it can’t be worse than anything else we’ve faced.”

Dean considered that for a moment…right up until his brain supplied him the Technicolor image of Buffy the Vampire Slayer having sex in his bedroom. Awesome in itself, but with someone other than him? Even though he didn’t have a vamp kink, he’d have thrown down for a good tussle with her. Instead, she was getting nailed by the same asshole who had stolen Baby.

Insult, meet injury.

“I dunno,” Dean snapped. “I think this might be worse.”

*~*~*

Hearing a light knock, Sam opened the bedroom door. “Donna,” he sighed with relief. “Come in.”

“Is he asleep?” she asked as her eyes looked on the bassinet set up on the far side of the bed.

“Yeah, I think he just went out, so let’s keep it to whispers.”

She nodded and he kicked himself for just noticing the tears running down her cheeks. “Donna,” He said wrapping her in a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just all too much,” she whispered in his ear. “Josh, being pregnant, knowing we’re part of some evil apocalyptic plan.”

“Yeah. I just begged Willow to marry me.”

Donna pulled back, eyes wide with disbelief. “You what?”

“Pretty sure I just got rejected. Hard. In front of room full of people who thought I was insane. Luckily most weren’t even eligible to vote.”

“What were you thinking?” She paused and furrowed her brow. “Seriously, what are you thinking?”

“Currently I’m not. At least not well.” He ran a hand through his hair and turned to look at his sleeping son. “I don’t know, Donna. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed. Up until I saw Willow again, I thought I had this all planned out. Now I have a son, an evil best friend—“

“Don’t say that, Sam. Please.”

He nodded. “A friend bewitched by evil?”

“Better.”

“And now I’m supposed to decide if I want to run for President?”

“You’d make a good President.”

“I’d make a terrible one. How can I lead a country when I can’t even tell half the country that the other exists? How can I worry about combating poverty when I’ll be worrying that my Chief of Staff is cursed?”

“Your polling numbers are twenty points over any other Democratic contender. Santos is leaving office with higher approval rates than Bartlet.”

“Two two term presidents in a row. The electorate is going to swing right.”

“Not according to a lot of polls. If you find a female in the South as VP, it really looks like you have a shot. Santos showed the energy and enthusiasm a younger leader has. Plus you’re white. The bigots will appreciate that more.”

“How do I explain Oz?”

“What’s there to explain? You have a son. Look at the demographics of modern families. Fewer people are getting married. What way to inspire millennials to get out and vote than to show then they’re being represented by someone who lives like them.”

“And Willow?”

Donna shrugged and he saw the annoyance on her face. “What about her? She wants to go back to England. You and her can work out a custody arrangement.”

“She was fired.”

“Fired?”

“And kicked out of England. They actually told her she wasn’t allowed to return.”

“Why?”

“Well…apparently all that stuff at Wolfram and Hart was illegal in even wizarding law. I don’t know if the others are in trouble too, but they really threw the book at her.”

“She was saving lives! She was fighting evil magic!”

“I know.”

“Are they stupid? She saved the world!”

“You know that. I know that. Everyone who has stepping in the place the last couple days knows it. But they don’t. Or they don’t care because I’m figuring out these guys aren’t just afraid to come out, they really don’t want to.”

“Duh.”

He cocked his head. “Eloquently stated.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “These people don’t want to deal with politics and publicity. Magical people have their own world. They’re just sharing the same space. The best thing you could do as President is to leave them alone.”

He gave her a smirk. “I forgot you got really obsessed with this stuff after meeting Willow.”

“I got obsessed when I went to Hogwarts.”

“You went to Hogwarts?” He said with an unintended yawn.

“I did,” Donna yawned back on reflex.

“Hey, you know you can stay in here if you don’t want to be alone right now.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Yeah. If he needs a diaper change, I’ll even let you have the honors.”

“How generous of you,” she teased as she went to the bed and laid down.

“I’m a gentleman and a scholar,” he said with a bow. Giving Oz one more check, he crawled in the bed and turned off the lamp.

Maybe his brain could rest before the next round of crazy.

*~*~*

“Dawn. Dawn Summers,” she hesitantly admitted as she took the proffered help to stand.

“Sorry if I stole your thunder. I had just finished up a rougarou one town over. When I heard there was a shapeshifter traveling this direction, I decided to check it out.”

Dawn’s head was still pretty woozy from the apparent concussion she just was dealt. “No, it’s cool. No thunder lost.”

“You hunting alone?”

Dawn didn’t like that question. She’d crossed path with a handful of hunters now and they were usually in pairs or creepy guys that gave her the willies. “No,” she lied. “You?”

“Actually, yes I am,” the woman said with a sad smile. “Long story, but I just got back to hunting and I needed some time to figure some stuff out.”

“Oh.” Dawn had not expected a genuine answer. The guilt now made her head hurt worse.

Mary took a look around. “So, where’s your partner.”

Crap. She took a step to steady herself, but her knees almost buckled and she grabbed the woman’s shoulder to keep from falling. “The store?”

Mary grabbed her. “The store? Which one?”

“You know.” Dawn saw the room spinning and feared passing out. “The one that sells the stuff. Bananas and harmonicas.”

“It’s okay,” Mary said. “I understand. But why don’t you come with me until they get back. From the banana and harmonica store.”

Dawn wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least until her head righted itself. “Cool. I’m down with that.”

*~*~*

“MACUSA?” Hermione asked in a tone that said she already knew the answer.

The newest witch gave a nod. “We’ve been in contact with Minister Shacklebolt and we all agree to allow your Ministry to handle any disciplinary actions for Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger-Weasley. Obviously the school exchange has been postponed until further notice. Therefore the three of you are politely being requested to return home.”

“We don’t take orders from you!” Ron snapped. “What the bloody hell is this, ‘Mione?”

“Apologies,” the Sabrina lady said. “I didn’t mean to be offensive. Your Minister is delivering owns with the same request. “I’m merely here to handle the Americans. You guys have diplomatic immunity so we have nothing further to address with you all at this time. Thank you.”

“Any problem with Willow is a problem with us all,” Harry declared, taking a step forward.

“Ms. Rosenberg’s spared from the harsher of our disciplinary actions.”

“Huh?” Zack had to ask.

“Death,” Hermione said lowly. “The Americans use the death penalty.”

“Only is extreme cases,” Sabrina said. “And while this is all pretty extreme, Willow had never been made privy to the laws she’d been expected to follow. That and the fact that she hasn’t actually murdered anyone since she was introduced to the magical world formally, we are prepared to cut her some slack.”

“You murdered someone?” Zack asked in disbelief. “I knew the whole ending the world deal.”

“Congrats,” Willow spat. “You’re not alone in the club. When’s the next meeting and the t-shirt orders due?”

“Dunno, but you’re getting a size bitchy,” Zack snapped back.

Sabrina cleared her throat and drew the room back into focus. “So, we have much to discuss. Sorting out your memory altercations for one. Also, determining who we have to use Memory Charms upon. Too many No-Majes are involved for this to be a safe situation.” Her gaze turned to Zack. “Non-magical persons. Referred to as Muggles in Great Britain. Let’s save some time, huh?”

“So your solution to altering memories is to alter memories?” Willow shook her head. “No thanks. We’re good.”

“You’ve exposed twenty-one No-Majes to information and actions that are illegal to divulge. The baby and the dead slayer aren’t really a concern. Neither are the four vampires. That leaves fifteen individuals, including a major political office holder, who simply know too much. Going forward, MACUSA and the entire magical world are in danger until it’s handled.”

“Yeah, no,” Zack said taking a menacing step forward. “If you or anyone dares fuck with my kids’ heads, I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

Sabrina didn’t even flinch. “That’s part of what will need to be talked about over the next few days. Certain individuals may be able to argued for exception. Your children are one case with merit.”

“And Sam?” Willow asked. “He’s the father of my baby.”

“Yes,” Sabrina said with a grim nod. “We are well aware and will be addressing the situation.”

“There’s nothing to address.”

Sabrina arched her brow. “There’s a hot mess to address. Which we will. With a bunch of other stuff that’s bound to be a pain in my ass.” She flashed a smile. “So any questions?”

*~*~*

Somehow, Dawn ended up in a truck that didn’t belong to her. Not that she had much that belonged to her, aside from her duffle bag and various weapons—which were now in the bed of the same truck. Life on the road meant little in the way of personal property. She needed to be up and gone at a moment’s notice, and willing to, if necessary, leave everything behind.

Getting into a moving vehicle was the worst of all bad ideas, particularly since the person behind the wheel was a stranger and Dawn was pretty sure she had a concussion. But the stranger had saved her life, and if she’d wanted to, could have easily _un_ saved her life back at the shapeshifter’s house. So for the moment, she wouldn’t judge herself too harshly.

“You don’t have a partner, do you?” Mary asked, not taking her eyes off the wheel.

“No,” Dawn muttered.

“Does anyone know where you are?”

She thought of Buffy, off living the vamp high-life in Los Angeles, believing whole-heartedly that Dawn was working toward her Master’s. Occasionally checking in with the odd phone call or text message. She thought of Willow, teaching overseas at Hogwarts, of Xander and Anya, who she’d managed to part ways with back on a hunt they had stumbled onto without ever clueing in that tracking down beasties was now her full-time vocation, rather than something she did on the side. She thought of Giles, the closest thing she had to a father, and the routine phone call she could expect every night at nine o’clock, asking about her studies, her progress, and making sure she didn’t need any money.

“My sister thinks I’m at Tulane.”

“New Orleans?”

“Yeah.”

“And why aren’t you?”

Dawn shrugged, though the motion made her head hurt. “Hard to focus on going into business when you know what goes bump in the night. Busted up one too many vamp nests—lot of Anne Rice groupies—and realized that it was more exciting than studying had been.”

That was the version she gave other hunters at rest-stops when they questioned why someone so young was hunting all on her lonesome. So far, no one had pressed on beyond that, which meant she hadn’t needed to consider what might happen if someone did.

“You have a family?” Mary asked softly.

“My sister. And her…husband.” Truthfully, Dawn wasn’t sure if Spike and Buffy were married or not. She tended to think not, because neither one of them had been too traditional, but _husband_ was an easier shortcut than _immortal mate_.

“And they have no idea what you’re doing?”

“Nope. I was supposed to go have a normal life.” Like such things existed for inter-dimensional Keys. Like she could go from being the Slayer’s kid sis to studying for finals and planning a boring future as a corporate stooge. Buffy had been so insistent on Dawn having a normal life—the thing denied her—that Dawn had gotten swept into the idea, herself. Normal being this mythical thing, this utopia—what everyone else wanted and what Dawn got to have, so she damn well better appreciate it.

No one had told her how fucking boring normal was.

And Buffy herself was pretty allergic to normal. Dawn remembered well—or at least, the monks that had made her had programmed her with the right memories—of Buffy bemoaning her fate as the one and only slayer, yet not giving it up even after learning Kendra had been called. Or Faith. And then after she’d been turned into a vampire herself, she’d pretty much had the ultimate out but couldn’t keep herself from jumping into action. Buffy was a bona-fide Gryffindor through-and-through—helping people and saving the world was in her blood.

And since Dawn had been made from Buffy’s blood, Buffy shouldn’t be too surprised to learn that Dawn shared this passion. She just lacked the super strength.

“I have two boys,” Mary said at last, a wan smile on her face. “They’re both in the life, too. I never wanted this for them. But things don’t work out the way you think they will.”

“Nope.”

“Do your sister and her husband…know about the real world?”

At that, Dawn snickered. “Short answer is very _yes_. And they’re pretty damn involved.”

Mary nodded. “My youngest did too. He went off to school, knowing what was out there but determined to have a normal life. He wanted to try. His father and brother kept him on the road, hunting for a certain demon.” She paused. “The way it’s told to me, Dean—that’s my oldest—went to see Sam and told him that their dad was missing. Sam never went back to school.”

Dawn nodded, though some of what the woman had said didn’t make sense. Like why wouldn’t she have known if the father of her children had gone missing. Unless they had been estranged at the time, which, well, weirder things had happened. And though Dawn knew better than to pry, the throbbing in her skull put her manners on the backburner. “So your oldest son yanked your youngest out of school to find their dad? Where were you?”

“It’s complicated.”

Dawn snickered again, her head feeling marginally clearer. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got the market cornered on complicated.”

“You’d be surprised.”

_Well, lady, I don’t know. I’m technically just ten years old and if you split me open, there’s a chance I could end the world. Oh, and my sister’s a vampire slayer._

“Do you have anywhere to go?” Mary asked a moment later. “Because I think I’m on the road home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Lebanon, Kansas. My boys were on a hunt of their own but I imagine they’ll be home soon.” Mary tossed her a sideways glance, the corner of her mouth tugging into a grin. “They might be able to help you figure out how to tell your sister what you’re doing out here.”

Yeah. Buffy would _so_ kill the messenger. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Dawn, what would have happened had I not come along tonight? You’d have been killed.”

Well, that was certainly being dramatic. “I had a handle on the situation. Maybe you missed the whole part where I stabbed the son of a bitch.”

“And maybe you missed where he smashed your head so hard against the floor that you got into a moving vehicle with a heavily armed stranger.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but she had nothing. Mary raised a decent point.

“I don’t mean to get all preachy on you,” Mary continued a moment later, “but… When you’ve seen what I’ve seen, and…been through what I’ve been through, you learn fast that family is the most important thing there is. Your sister deserves to know. If she’s in the life too, then…one day, sooner or later, she’ll find out regardless. Better from you than seeing you in a news report. Or worse—never again. Hunter’s funerals don’t get a ton of attention.”

“All right, I get it,” Dawn groused, leaning her brow against the truck’s window. “I’ll come clean to Buffy. But just warning you…she’s gonna be _piiiiiiissed_.”

“Probably. But I promise she’d be angrier if she had to find out another way.” A pause, then Dawn felt a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t fall asleep, I’m sorry.”

“Actually, I can. Learned that at the fancy school I left.” Dawn shrugged Mary’s hand off, popped down the visor and studied her reflection. “My pupils aren’t dilated and I’m holding conversation. If I was nauseous or dizzy, yeah, sleep would be a bad idea, but as it is, I’m all clear to visit the Sandman.” She paused and gave Mary a narrow look. “Heavily armed stranger aside. Though there are more direct ways to kill a girl than mother her to death.”

At the words, Dawn felt a pang hit her square in the chest. That was the sort of thing she might’ve said to her own mother, years and years ago. Enough time had passed that the moments where grief took her were few and far between, but she never knew which memory would be rawer than the next. And maybe it was because she hadn’t had reason to think of what Joyce might say to her today that the tears burned hot and heavy. Also, for whatever reason, she found it more difficult to keep her emotions under wraps when she was with other people. Like since the stakes were higher, her resistance was shot to shit.

“Something tells me you have an interesting story, Dawn,” Mary said a moment later. “I look forward to hearing it.”

It was the last thing her tired brain processed before she gave in to the call of sleep.

*~*~*

“Who the hell is this and why is she standing in my lobby?”

Willow raised a hand, but Wright stalked right on past her, glaring daggers at the MACUSA witch.

“Oh good,” Sabrina said brightly, withdrawing a wand from one of her dress sleeves. “We can begin the memory modification now.”

“No,” Willow yelled, putting as much power behind the word as she could muster. It seemed to work—the woman froze on the spot, wand aloft, her eyes fixed determinedly on Wright.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then Ron released a long sigh and turned to Willow. “I don’t mind telling you, you scare me sometimes.”

“What happened?” Wright asked, waving a hand in front of Sabrina Deanne’s face.

“I think I froze her in place,” Willow replied, edging a step nearer the witch. She didn’t want to touch her, though, for fear of breaking the enchantment. Instead, she sighed and whirled to Harry. “Well?”

Harry blinked, his wand still drawn. “Well what?”

“I know exactly bupkis about the American Ministry. Or whatever the hell she said she was from.”

“American Ministry?” Wright echoed faintly, going somewhat pale. “More wizards?”

“They want to erase our memories,” Zack told his brother. “Well, _your_ memories. Yours and Cordelia’s, Sam and Donna and I don’t know about Josh, but maybe his too.”

“And the kids,” Kelly added.

Wright’s expression darkened. “I am not letting anyone into my head. Fuck that.”

“I know. None of us are.”

Harry turned to Hermione, seemingly coming out of his stupor. “Modify her memory,” he said, nodding to Sabrina. “You’re the best at it. We need to buy some time to figure out what to do next.”

“Harry—”

“We can’t let them erase everyone’s memory here! What is the point?” He glanced at Wright. “His entire livelihood is made hunting demons and things. What’s it matter if he knows about us? Same for those Winchester blokes. And the children have vampires as parents, don’t they? The only Muggles I can see resetting are Sam and Donna, but one of them has a baby with a witch and the other one is dabbling, herself.”

Hermione arched a cool eyebrow. “Were you under the impression that I disagree with you?”

“Well…I—”

“I don’t. This is preposterous.” She pulled out her wand and favored Sabrina with a particularly frosty look. “It won’t buy us much time, though. Especially not if Sam continues this ridiculous idea of revealing the Magical world to everyone. I can make her believe she performed the memory spells, but we are going to need to be extra careful.”

“We?” Willow asked weakly, her voice hoarse. “You guys get to go back to England, don’t you? This won’t be your problem anymore.”

*~*~*

Castiel was an angel. Literally and figuratively. While the bunker was large and impressive, after a couple days it had grown quite claustrophobic. Especially with two vampires always within earshot.

After taking them out to eat, Castiel drove Nick and Rosalie over to the local Walmart to stock up on new clothes and toiletries. While borrowing had got them by, nothing compared to having belongings of their own.

As they rang up the purchases, Nick admitted to himself he’d let Rosalie go a little overboard. They both had a week’s worth of clothes and shoes plus all the standard toiletries plus cologne and perfume and makeup plus a dress and an outfit for when he ‘finally took her on a date.’

Those last few were pretty unnecessary considering their future income was nonexistent, but he wasn’t going to bugger up watching her happy for the first time since this mess started.

Well, except for the orgasms. He was certain he’d made her happy a few times since they landed in Kansas.

The return to the bunker was met with silence. Either the vampires were still on patrol or had already finished celebrating their hunt. Nick was grateful with either option.

After carrying their new possessions to the room they had come to share, Rosalie sat her share down on the dresser and shut the door.

“Figured you’d like to try out that body wash, love.” Nicked opened the closet and looked to see if there were any hangers.

“I’ll worry about showering after.” She had walked behind him and grabbed the bags from his hands and tossed them down on the floor. Spinning him around to face her, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a long and deep kiss.

Letting her control the situation, he quickly found them on the bed and Rosalie atop him. Not that he minded in the slightest. Getting to live out his fantasies of the last year was by far the highlight of his life.

But he knew this wasn’t going to keep satisfying her. Or him. At least not much longer. Because as much as he enjoyed exploring every inch of her body with his fingers and mouth, they both were craving the same thing. She’d confirmed it when she’d tossed the box of Trojans in the cart at Walmart.

“Rose,” he murmured as he felt her hand start to slip beneath his waistband.

“Mmmhmm?” She rubbed herself against his erection, giggling as she drew a moan from his lips. “You like that, huh?”

“Very much,” he confirmed as he grabbed her hips with both hands to stop her from continuing her blatant seduction. “But slow down a second.”

“Nick, I’m tired of slowing down,” she said before pressing down her body in a manner her could practically feel the wet heat from her pussy through the layers of fabric. “I’m ready. I’m ready tonight.”

It took all the restraint he could gather to keep from flipping her onto the mattress and fucking her then and there, condoms across the room be damned. Instead, he flipped her over and hopped off the bed.

He hated the look she gave. Her eyes first blinked in confusion before settling into a gaze of wounded embarrassment. “Did I read you wrong?” she asked in a meek whisper.

“No! No, you read me right.” He paused to look her up and down before settling back on her glistening eyes. “You read me very very correctly, love.”

She sat up and scowled. “Okay…”

He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look…before we…before we…”

“Have sex? Make love? Fuck? Do the horizontal mambo? Go down to pound town?”

He cracked a grin. “Pound town?”

She gave him a blushing smile. “I was diffusing the tension with charm and humor.”

“I need to call the Council. Before we…go down to pound town.”

Rosalie arched a brow. “Pretty sure you already broke the rules. Watchers aren’t supposed to stick their tongues up the Slayer’s—“

“Don’t finish that sentence. This is already hard enough.”

“That’s what she said,” Rosalie immediately bit back.

“Fucking hell!” He rolled his eyes and walked to retrieve his phone from the nightstand.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“No, I’m sorry.” He sighed and sat down next to her, pressing the button to power on his cell. “I’ve just been dreading this part. Not just because I’m not fully convinced the Council couldn’t be compromised by some extension of Wolfram and Hart. I also know that with this call…”

“It’s permanent,” Rosalie softly finished after a minute. “That you’ll lose you job and I’ll lose my Watcher.”

“Yeah.”

“And without the job, the only reason for you not to go home is…” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t seem to finish the sentence.

“Is because I’m already home, Rose. I go where you go. Forever.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Unless I break up with you because my new Watcher is hotter.”

“Wright!”

She snickered. “Diffusing tension with my charm and humor.”

He glowered at her. “Not funny.”

“Dude, I’ve been crushing on you for a year. Pretty sure you’re safe.”

He looked at her with awe. “Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Why couldn’t I get on with any of the guys at school? I had offers, you know.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. You just missed it with all the Faith fucking.”

“Whoa. Where’s the charm and humor?”

She gave him a dirty look. “Don’t expect the jealousy to just evaporate overnight. I lived a year with that.”

“And if I had known that distracting myself from you was hurting you…well, this would all have happened much sooner.”

“And my dad would have already cut up and disposed of your body. So in the greater scheme of things, it’s all worked out for the best.”

“Yes. Let’s just keep Zack Wright away from here until you turn eighteen.”

“I’ll worry about my dad. You worry about making that phone call.” She gave him a long kiss before rolling off the bed. “Now I’m going to go and take a shower with that body wash. Then, I’m putting on the lacy panties I stuck in the cart when Cas was looking the other way. Then, I’m putting that box of condoms right there.” She pointed at the nightstand. “You feel me?”

He licked his lips. “Oh yes, I’ll feel you.”

“Good. Goodbye Watcher Hunter. Tell my boyfriend Nick I’ll see him in a few.”

Boyfriend. The pay was shit, but he liked his new job title way more.


	32. Chapter 32

“Uhhh…” Kelly spoke into the silence. “Assuming that worked, what now?”

The Zacks on either side of her nodded in unison. “What are you gonna tell her when you wake her up?” Wright asked.

“You guys are going to wake her up, right?” Morris followed up.

“First thing’s first,” Hermione said turned to the magicless trio. “You guys get out of here.”

“Look lady,” Wright growled. “I’ve had a helluva long ass day. If you expect me to go pack my wife and daughter up and leave my fucking home, you and that new witch can kiss my ass.”

“Agreed,” Zack said with a nod at his brother. “I’ve been through just about as much as anyone.” He paused. “Except Faith. And God knows she wouldn’t be backing down right now from one lonely witch with bad intentions.”

“Watch it!” Ron snapped. “Talk to her again like that and I’ll be testing my immunity.”

“Idiots,” Hermione muttered under her breath. She rolled her eyes and released a heavy sigh. “Not leave _here._ Leave the bloody room!”

“Oh,” Zack said lamely.

“Yeah, we can do that,” Wright agreed.

Kelly spoke up once more. “So we leave and you guys tell her she’s completed the job? And then you guys can figure out what she knows about our rings and altered memories?”

Hermione smiled. “I still haven’t figured out how your country hasn’t elected a female president.”

“Really?” Willow responded. “You are looking at two male voters. Fifty percent of our population is the problem.”

“Normally, Red, I’d have a really good comeback on tap,” Wright said. “But right about now I’m all out of fucks to give.”

“Ditto. Kel, leave your ring down here until we know they aren’t cursed. I’ll call Spike and Buff and tell them the same. Then, I’m fucking going to sleep.”

Wright pointed at Willow. “You’re in charge. If you fuck up my lobby or my sleep, I’m sending my wife to deal with you.” He gave Hermione a look. “Because I’m good with having a woman in charge.”

Willow snickered. “Go. Before she comes out of it.”

Zack followed his wife and brother up the stairs. Somehow he managed to have more questions than when he’d come down.

*~*~*

By the time Willow dragged herself across the threshold into Sam’s room, she was about twelve steps past exhausted. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel even more fucked than she had after reading news of her expulsion from England, but that had been before the Americans had got involved. And true to form, they had taken a shit sandwich and turned into a dumpster fire.

Never mind there were other things to work out still—a whole host of them, including the fact that the father of her child was possibly at risk of extermination. Oh, and he’d asked her to marry him.

She stopped short just inside the doorway, blinking at the sight of a very sleep-haggard Donna tiptoeing toward the hallway.

“Donna?”

Donna jumped and gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth to presumably keep her surprised scream locked in. Then, upon seeing Willow, she flushed. “Oh. Hi,” she whispered. “This—umm—isn’t what it looks like.”

“What’s it supposed to look like?” Willow whispered back.

“That I…was feeling very confused and alone and pregnant and didn’t want to be alone but then realized that you, actual baby momma, would probably be in to check on the baby at some point and see me and your baby daddy in bed together and jump to the wrong conclusion.”

Willow fought to keep the grin off her lips, but honestly, it was nice to be confronted with a bout of normal Donna-ness after the mess she’d left downstairs. “Because that was what I thought it looked like, too.”

Donna’s cheeks went pink. “Oh. Well…good.” She nodded toward the baby. “I’ll just go back to my room now. So you can…be a momma.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, well, three’s company.” Donna, still blushing, edged past Willow and didn’t seem to relax until she was in the hallway. “Good night,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

Willow blew out a breath, not sure what to make of that exchange. She and Donna hadn’t had a chance to have a heart-to-heart since she’d admitted to blowing the lid on the whole pregnancy thing to Josh, and while things seemed to be edging back to normal, the past few days had taught her not to take anything for granted.

She flicked her gaze toward the bassinette Cordelia had graciously kept in storage.

Not _anything_ for granted.

Willow crept over to gaze at her sleeping son. So much had happened since she’d popped the kid out that the fact that she was a mom kept hitting her at intermittent times—a piece of knowledge she logically understood but had yet to really feel. But there was no denying, even though Baby Oz’s was barely a week old, that he was his father’s son.

There was also no denying that he was hers, if the fact that it was snowing above his head was any indication. Hermione had told her to watch for signs, subtle and obvious, that he belonged in the wizarding world. “When he’s very happy or cross,” she’d said. “Or frightened or gassy or hungry. Or sleeping—he might have dreams he doesn’t understand. Hugo was like that, bursting with magic right off. Rose wasn’t, though. Ron will never admit it, but he spent the first six months of her life worried she was a Squib. Then she sneezed one day and lit across the living room and he couldn’t have been more pleased.”

The snow flaking into Oz’s face melted on contact and wasn’t cold to the touch, but Willow found herself dusting it off anyway. Her little boy would be a proper wizard, unlike her. He’d get a letter to some school—probably not Hogwarts now, and yes, that thought stung something fierce—and go off and learn magic in ways she’d only ever fantasized about. He’d get a wand. He’d conjure a Patronus one day. He’d get to experience magic as she never would.

Being a hybrid sucked. She’d always known that. But now it sucked for reasons that were quite literally life and death.

“Willow?”

Willow blinked and wiped at her eyes in a move that she hoped looked calm and casual and not like she was doing exactly what she was doing. “Sorry to wake you,” she said, her voice thicker than normal even to her ears. “I just wanted to see him. I’ll go.”

“Go?” Sam was in front of her the next instant, his eyes bright and alert. “Where? You’re leaving?”

“No. I mean—to another room.”

“Why?”

She blew out a breath and shook her head, a surge of anxious energy bursting through her chest. “Because we’re not a couple, Sam. Because you’re a politician and I’m a witch and we made a baby but we’re not together. I’m sorry—I’m sorry I kissed you earlier. I’m sorry for all the mixed signals, but we don’t work. I should’ve known better than to get involved in the first place.”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “I…guess that means you’re not going to marry me.”

And that was it—for whatever reason, that was the thing that tipped her over the edge. Willow barked a laugh that became a sob and the next moment, she was full-on ugly crying. The sort of crying that left you feeling sore, like after a workout. The sort of crying that would definitely wake up the baby, but for some reason, knowing she should be quiet made being quiet impossible.

Then she was engulfed in a warm embrace she’d spent the better part of a year trying to put out of her mind. Sam was murmuring things to her, running his hands down her back and through her hair, and it was the only place she really wanted to be. Beyond England, beyond Hogwarts, and impossibility be damned—part of her had been broken since she’d walked away from Sam and being here again…

Fuck them. Fuck Hogwarts. Fuck the MACUSA. Fuck the whole goddamn world.

Willow pulled back and pressed her lips to his, suddenly starving for him. Well, not suddenly. She’d been starving for months. She was just done pretending she wasn’t.

Sam let her get away with it for a few seconds, all of which she figured could be chalked up to shock. But too soon, he seized her shoulders and pulled away, blinking at her in a stupor.

“Willow,” he said, breathing hard. “I am…getting some very mixed signals.”

She knew that, just as she knew she owed him an explanation. But dammit, she didn’t want to explain. She wanted sex. Lots of it. Right now.

“Take off your pants.”

Sam’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Your pants. Lose them.”

“No. I mean—no. Even if I… You just had a baby. We can’t for several weeks.”

“Those are Muggle rules. I am not a Muggle. Or a No-Maj, or whatever ridiculous thing they call non-magic people in this country.” Willow tugged at his belt. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Willow—no!” Sam tore away, holding his hands out, heaving deep breaths. Miraculously, the baby was still asleep—even through all of that. “What the hell is going on? You come in here, tell me we’re not together and never will be, break down on me, and then suddenly we’re supposed to have sex?”

Willow released a breath, willing her nerves to calm. She stared at Sam for a long moment, uncertain if she was grateful or annoyed by his perpetual need to be such a boy scout. But then she thought of what had happened downstairs, the things he didn’t know yet, and the urge to curl into a ball and cry came over her again.

That Sabrina Deanne person might be gone now, but the bad just kept coming. And it wouldn’t stop.

“A representative of the Magical Congress of the United States of America paid us a visit.”

Sam blinked. “The what what of what?”

“I’d honestly never given the United States magical government any thought,” she said. “I don’t think I even realized we _had_ a magical government until recently. Everything I knew about the wizarding world came from Rowling, and then knowing Harry and the others. Before then I was just a girl who discovered I had some power when I gave my friend her boyfriend’s soul back. But apparently they know me. And American wizards kind of suck.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the death penalty, Sam. The US magical government is apparently very okay with killing people who threaten to expose the wizarding world to the rest of society.” She pressed her lips together, barely holding on. “While you were up here with the baby, a woman from the Magical Congress of the United States—MACUSA—came by to wipe your memory. And Donna’s. And Zack and Kelly’s kids’. And Zack Wright and Cordelia’s. Because you’re _not_ supposed to know about us. And apparently, I’m just lucky I was born in the right decade or I might’ve been killed for breaking rules I didn’t know existed that are enforced by a government I didn’t realize I was a part of.”

More blinking. Sam shook his head again. “So…you’ve been busy since I came up here.”

“This isn’t a joke. Hermione had to _Obliviate_ that woman into making her think that she did what she came here to do. But you’re talking about exposing the Muggle population to the Magical world.” She glanced at the sleeping baby. “Oz is a wizard, you know. He was making it snow when I came in here.”

“Seriously, you have completely lost me.”

“Our son is a wizard,” Willow repeated. “And you’re a politician in a country with a magical government that kills to keep its secrets. Knowing me can get you killed, Sam. It can get me killed. And our son. If—when they find out you still know, that she didn’t erase your mind, I don’t know what will happen then. But it’ll be something. A bad that’s worse than Wolfram and Hart and Josh and whatever else is out there. My home country’s government will kill us. And now I’m stuck here. I can’t go back to England, can’t protect my son, can’t protect you. Not against everything.”

Sam waited a moment after she finished talking, then shook his head. “Wow…that is…a lot.”

“Yeah.”

“There’s an American wizard government.”

“It honestly never occurred to me,” Willow said. “The Ministry of Magic works closely with Parliament and the Prime Minister. I just…thought that was the way it was everywhere if there was a government in place. But I grew up in a world where magical creatures just…existed. They weren’t governed. The first witch I met was the mom of a cheerleader who wanted to relive her glory days. There was nothing about…about a government. Ms. Calendar never mentioned MACUSA and Tara…” She looked away, her eyes welling again. “If Tara was real, she didn’t know about it either. But they know about me, and they know about Oz, and they know that you’re the father.”

“I’ll keep quiet,” Sam said firmly. “About magic. You and everything. Until we can find a way to work—”

“ _No_ , Sam. There is no way to work around this. They will _kill_ you. Kill me. Kill our child. Do you understand?”

“That’s barbaric.”

“Yes. But I am not willing to risk Oz’s life—your life—because of this.”

“And you’re sure there’s not the slightest chance you’re overreacting?”

Willow released a long breath, begging herself for patience. “Do you want to risk it?”

The answer to that came fast, as she’d known it would. Sam’s eyes went wide as he shot his gaze to their sleeping infant and back again. “No,” he said, his voice thick. “No.”

“Me either,” Willow replied. “So…what do we do?”

Sam was quiet for a moment. “Do you… Willow, do you love me?”

“What?”

“Do you love me?”

Willow stared at him, feeling for a moment like she was choking on air. She opened her mouth but her brain refused to supply her words, so she just ended up standing there gawking at him like some parody of an actual person. Which meant she got a front row seat to the way the light left his eyes, how his shoulders slumped, and his expression tightened with resignation.

“Not exactly the most flattering response I could’ve gotten but not the worst,” he managed a moment later with a weak smile.

“Why?”

Oh good. Her brain was back. And it was being a dick.

“Why…? Because I love _you_. And we have a child together. And in an ideal world, we’d raise that child together.”

“Sam, I just told you that being with me is quite possibly a literal death sentence. And it’s not like you’re just anyone. The governor and favorite to enter the presidential race starts being seen with a redhead, and everyone’s going to take notice.”

“There has to be some kind of clause for spouses,” Sam replied. “Some people _have_ to know about wizards and witches in this country, because sometimes they’re born to Muggle families, like Hermione.”

Willow paused, arched an eyebrow.

Sam turned red and shifted his weight between his feet. “It’s possible Cordelia lent me the first book. That’s true, isn’t it? Hermione’s parents are dentists?”

“Uh, yes.” And any doubt that she was, indeed, in love with Sam Seaborn abruptly shattered.

“And…that happens everywhere. So it stands to reason that _some_ Muggles in the United States are in the know.”

“I forgot you were a lawyer. I was almost a lawyer.”

“What happened?”

“I became a witch instead.” Something she was reluctant to call hope blossomed in her chest for the first time since Hermione had cast the charm that collectively saved their asses downstairs. “A-and I’m not a normal witch. I grew up in the Muggle world.”

“Right. So it stands to reason that…say, if we got married, you’d be allowed to tell me. Because our son is a wizard and there’s no way I’m not noticing that.”

“You’d have to find out someday,” she agreed.

“But none of this matters if you don’t love me, Willow. If you don’t want to raise a child with me.” Sam hesitated, then reached for her. “I want you and Oz. I’ll even get over that stupid name and the fact that you named him after your ex-boyfriend.”

Willow arched an eyebrow. “His name is Samuel Osborne. I named him after you.”

“And your ex.”

“Who was killed by my best friend’s mate.”

“Just saying.” Sam swallowed. “Well?”

A long beat.

Then, for the first time in what felt like eons, Willow smiled.

*~*~*

Like any good predator, Spike had kept still and silent as nancy boy Nick had crept his way into the main meeting hall of Winchester central. He knew the wanker hadn’t seen him—lights were off, for one—and the rigid stake that lived up the Watcher’s arse when he knew Spike was around seemed to be missing at the moment.

He watched as the bloke’s face was illuminated by his smartphone, watched him make the call, and listened as he explained to the Council of Wankers that sorry, he’d decided to step down as a watcher. Conveniently leaving out the part about the reason being that he wanted to shag an underage girl, of course, because gits like Nick, like Angel, couldn’t admit what they really were to themselves, let alone anyone else. At least Spike had waited until Buffy was old enough to vote.

Granted, not by much. But it was the principle of the thing.

Also, he just plain didn’t like the sod.

Nick hesitated toward the end, and thanks to his keen sense of hearing, Spike knew why. Council gits needed to send over someone to fill Nancy’s shoes, but that meant letting said Council gits know where little Rosie was at the moment. He was mollified, if only a little, to see that Nick didn’t want to relinquish that information—showed he was in it for reasons beyond underage pussy, but Spike wasn’t the sort to hand out participation trophies. And when push came to shove, Nick did what all good watchers would do and coughed up the info. He had to, after all.

Though, Spike had to admit with begrudging respect, Nick did his best to talk up the security Rosalie had at her current location, specifically mentioning that they were in something called a Men of Letters stronghold owned by two very sturdy demon hunters, an angel, the actual Buffy the Vampire Slayer and William the Bloody. So at least the little ponce knew what cards to play.

At last, Nick lowered his phone and released a long, put-upon sigh.

A perfect moment to announce one’s presence.

Spike struck a match, which, in the quiet of the main hall, was just as dramatic and loud as he’d hoped. Hunter squealed and whirled around, slapping a hand over his chest and dropping his cellphone.

“Get your permission slip signed, then?” Spike drawled, lighting his cigarette. He shook out the match and dropped it on the table before kicking up his feet. “Better hurry off. I hear you have a cherry to pop.”

Nick blinked at him a few seconds before his expression hardened. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about her that way.”

“And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t stick anything of yours into one of my girls, but rumor has it beggars don’t get to choose too much.”

Nick arched his eyebrows. “One of your girls? Rosalie’s not your anything.”

“Been mine a mite longer than she was anything of yours. Known her since she was a little thing.” He held out a hand to indicate height. “Made the girl hot chocolate. Sang bloody Disney to her. When Zangy ran off to do a bit of rescuing in Pylea, guess who he trusted to keep the most important girl in his life safe?”

“I’m sure you have a point.”

Spike smirked, puffed on his cigarette, and drew to his feet. “The girl’s grown up,” he said. “That’s part of life, I know. Also know you don’t particularly like me.”

“You’re a soulless vampire who’s killed _two_ slayers. Of course I don’t like you. I’m in love with a bloody slayer.”

“Yeah. Join the sodding club.” He tilted his head, sucked on his cigarette again. “I’ll do you one better—I love Rosie, too. Girl’s family. So if you hurt her, I have permission from the girl’s father to fall off the wagon and make sure your body’s never found. So step lightly, Nicky.”

Nick took a step forward, looking for a moment like he might throw in for an actual fight, then something in his eyes changed and he blinked, taking a step back. “Her…her father. Her father said that you could kill me.”

“Not in the market of slayer killing anymore, but wouldn’t mind doing in a watcher if he crossed me.”

“Wright knows that, that Rosalie and I are…are…”

“Well, he hasn’t had to listen in like the less fortunate among us…” Spike shuddered. “But yeah, cat’s outta the bloody bag, I’m afraid. Bloke seemed to take it well, though. Didn’t immediately ask for your head on a bloody pike, at the least, but I wager it’s only a matter of time and, lucky me, I got loads of that.”

Nick blinked rapidly, stepping back as genuine fear flashed across his face. Which, yeah, Spike found somewhat annoying. Seriously, soulless slayer-killing vampire three feet away, but Nick’s knees didn’t start knocking until he mentioned a human hunter who was half a continent away?

_How the mighty have fallen._

And what bothered him more was that he wasn’t all that bothered. Sodding conscience.

“So what are you gonna do with your life now, mate?” Spike asked, hopping back on the table. “As much fun as sitting around and shagging slayers all day sounds, the girl’s got a purpose. Gotta train, since, unlike you, she’s actually important. You ready for a life on the sidelines?” He lit another cigarette. “Town’s a bit of a bloody bore, gotta say. Think the Slayer and I have cleaned out all the demon hidey-holes already. Might be the only graveyard in the whole sodding country that could convince a vamp to crawl back into the coffin. Reckon it’s gonna be a bit of a challenge to see that Rosalie’s properly trained if she doesn’t have much ’round here to slay.”

At that, the panic and anger on Hunter’s face flinched away. “I… I hadn’t thought about that. Los Angeles has no shortage of demonic activity.”

“Of course. It has a kickin’ nightlife, loads of tasty tourists, and all the entertainment a bloke could ask for. Toss in that it’s a stone’s throw from the hellmouth and you’ve got yourself one nonstop party.” Spike shrugged, gesturing to the quiet around him. “From what I gather, these gits have to hit the road to have any kinda fun. Not really prime ground for training the world’s protector. Sure Buffy’ll give her a run for her money, but she’ll need to be in actual danger every now and then to learn what kinda slayer she’ll be when the goin’ gets rough.” He sighed and blew out a stream of smoke. “Suppose we could always take field trips. Maybe ring up Lorne and see how to open gates between worlds and the like.”

“Lorne?”

Spike blinked. “You never swung by Caritas?”

“I… No, I definitely did. The sanctuary.”

He dipped his chin. “Another reason LA was always hoppin’. Sanctuary bars aren’t that common and they attract a lot of nightly creatures. Come for the drinks, stay for the mayhem.”

“But the point of sanctuary bars is that they don’t get to fight.”

Spike snorted, his eyebrows winging upward. Did this bloke need everything spelled out for him? “Right,” he drawled, “but what happens when it’s closing time and everyone packs up? You get warring demon clans, vamps, and all kinds of nasties who have nothin’ to do but try to take each other out.” He frowned. “Place like that would solve a couple problems right off. Give the Slayer and me a decent chance at a spot of violence while we’re grounded here and somethin’ to do in a pissant town where even the bloody taverns close at eight o’clock on Friday nights.”

“They have a tavern here?”

“Actually, no.” Spike finished off his cigarette, snuffed it out on the tabletop, then slid to his feet once again. “Good talk, mate. Remember, you hurt Bite Size and you’ll see what kinda monster I really am.”

He clapped him good-naturedly on the shoulder, then sauntered back toward the room where a hopefully naked Buffy would be there to greet him so they could work out some of their restlessness.

*~*~*

Hermione edged open the door to Zack and Kelly’s room without knocking, which Zack supposed spoke to her level of fatigue. He didn’t know the witch well, but she seemed to be more respectful of boundaries than her loudmouth husband.

Also, she looked a bit ragged. But she was smiling.

“What is it?” Kelly asked, hurrying forward. Zack was right on her heels.

“Sabrina Deanne of the MACUSA has taken her leave,” she said. “She believes, for now, that she has successfully modified everyone’s memory, so we’ve got some time. Ginny is on her way and Percy is traveling with her, and…” She dipped a hand into her pocket and produced two familiar-looking rings. “These are safe,” she said, dropping them into Zack’s hand without ceremony.

Zack blinked at the rings, looked to Kelly, whose expression was tentative but hopeful. “You’re sure?” he asked Hermione, not quite willing to close his hand around the rings, which he recognized as ridiculous since they’d been wearing the damn things for years now.

“I performed every counter-jinx I could think of,” Hermione said. “All the ones Professor Flitwick used on Harry’s Firebolt, everything in the Auror handbook, and a few I’ve invented, myself. I’ve sent an owl to Professor McGonagall inquiring about the time you believe you spent at Hogwarts to see if she might expound upon what happened.”

Zack was still studying the rings. “Didn’t we want Willow to look at these too?”

“She can, if you like, but I don’t think that’s necessary. I am actually pretty good at magic, myself.”

“Well, I know that, but don’t you two have completely _different_ kinds of magic?”

Hermione bristled, crossing her arms. “Yes, but since meeting Willow, I have studied the sort of magic she uses—quite extensively, in fact. More so than any other witch or wizard in Great Britain. I know what to look for. And,” she added somewhat crossly, “while the magic we use has characteristic differences, it is still fundamentally magic. Items that have been touched with dark magic—which again, I have quite a bit of experience in—are fairly easy to spot. The rings do look like they have been touched by dark magic, but any trace of that magic is gone. I believe Professor McGonagall will know why, particularly if you ever actually have stepped foot at Hogwarts.”

“But that should be impossible, too,” Kelly said. “I…started rereading some of my daughter’s books. Isn’t Hogwarts invisible to Muggles? Zack and I were both human when we were…wherever we were.”

“Yes,” Hermione agreed. “However, those charms can be lifted or made conditional. Such as Apparating. There is no Apparation inside Hogwarts, but when sixth years are preparing to take their Apparation test, that charm is lifted in certain parts of the castle. So we don’t know for certain.” She gave them both a narrow look. “But I trust Professor McGonagall will have the answer.”

Zack hesitated, then held up the ring. “You realize if you’re wrong about these, the best possible outcome is we dust and the worst possible outcome involves us carving a bloody path through Los Angeles, starting with everyone in this hotel.”

Hermione smirked. “Trust me, Zack, if that were to happen, you’d never make it out of the hotel.”

He waited until she was gone to turn to Kelly. “Let’s wait until Willow has a chance to look these over. And until she hears from McGonagall.”

“We’ve had these rings for so long…you really think they’re dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” Zack replied. “But Hermione just made me piss my pants a little.”

*~*~*

There were few things in life Sabrina Deanne enjoyed more than a job well done. It gave her a rush that was better than sex because, frankly, the men she’d been with had left her wanting.

But this in particular was a huge win. She’d begged her superior to let her handle the memory modification at the Hyperion, despite the fact that the visiting consultant, Pansy Parkinson, had all but insisted on doing it herself. But there was something about Parkinson that Sabrina didn’t like—something Mr. Toadmore, her superior, insisted was all in her head. Or that she’d been brainwashed from reading the Rowling drivel which, in her workplace, was pretty much the worst thing another witch or wizard could say to a person.

Parkinson, he’d insisted, had been unfairly maligned by Rowling because she, unlike Potter the Glory Whore, hadn’t given the trash No-Maj writer the inside scoop on life in the wizarding world. And that without Pansy’s help, the security breaches coming from the Hyperion would put them on a fast course to a Level 3 Cataclysm, something that hadn’t happened since before the No-Majes had ended their insipid Civil War.

But she had managed. Mr. Toadmore couldn’t overlook her any more, and he definitely couldn’t keep her from Lebanon, Kansas. He’d told her he’d allow her to personally see to the Winchesters’ memory modification if she proved she had the chops to do it right here. Sabrina had never been trusted with a field assignment before, let alone a traveling one, and this was the next step toward advancement—toward becoming Mr. Toadmore’s superior rather than his errand girl.

Yes, things were certainly looking up.

Sabrina cut a path toward the Edward G. Squibbly building, the Los Angeles MACUSA headquarters. At this time of night—or early morning, as it were—the cemetery was the best bet to get back the fastest. She’d be able to use magical enhancements once she was far from prying No-Maj eyes, and she was eager to type up her report for Mr. Toadmore. She wanted it waiting on his desk the moment he arrived for work in a few hours. He’d been out of the office so often these last few days, holding endless meetings with Wolfram and Hart. Catching him in the morning was pretty much her best shot.

A growl rent the air, jarring Sabrina from her thoughts. She paused between two headstones, holding her breath. The instinct was to pull her wand from her sleeve, but there were at least three No-Majes congregated around a trashcan within eyesight. The last thing she needed was for a report of magical use to erase what she’d accomplished that night, and knowing Toadmore, that would be all he remembered.

So Sabrina raised her fists, her heart thundering. While she’d never personally fought a vampire before, she had taken the MACUSA-mandated self-defense courses in No-Maj tactics. Just as she carried a No-Maj cellular device in her pocket and had a No-Maj computation contraption at home. The American wizards and witches were adept at blending in. If the No-Maj world were to discover the magical world existed, it would not be the Americans to blow it.

Sabrina held her breath, straining her ears. Silence answered her.

Perhaps she had imagined the noise. Or perhaps it had been a dog.

Or perhaps it was the vampire who seized her from behind.

“Ooh, tasty girly,” the thing hissed in her ear, and in a moment of blind panic, everything Sabrina had learned in all of her self-defenses classes leaked out of her mind. The thing’s arms were tight around her as it heaved her against its chest, and yes—oh yes—that was a fang skating down her neck.

“Didn’t your mummy tell you not to wander out after dark?” the vampire hissed. “You never know what sort of beasties you might run in to.”

“Didn’t your maker tell you not to taunt your food?” another voice, a deep, male, British voice answered. And the next Sabrina knew, the pressure was gone and she was falling, covered in dust and falling, but not to the ground.

Someone caught her. A very rugged, very handsome someone.

“Though he is right, I’m afraid,” the man said, offering a small smile as he righted her on her feet. “This isn’t the best place to wander around at…” He paused, checked his watch. “Good lord, it’s nearly morning.”

Sabrina was certain she was supposed to be more cool and collected, but at the moment her jaw was battling gravity, and it was losing.

“Anyway.” He offered her another smile. “Maybe take a cab next time. Don’t wander around cemeteries.”

“I’m not a No-Maj,” she blurted, and felt her cheeks flush hot. “I mean, I could have handled him, had he not sneaked up behind me.”

The man blinked, his smile fading.

“I know how to slay vampires,” she continued. “I just…hadn’t yet decided how I was going to do it. But thank you, anyway, for…” She gestured at the air, then frowned, realizing she was covered in the vamp’s dust. “Well, for this.”

The man nodded, looking somewhat confused, and stepped back. “Well, good evening then.”

Great. She was being rude. “I’m very impressed,” she said. “Most wizards I meet are terrible about thinking on their feet. So used to waving their wands.”

“Wizards?”

“Yes. I told you, I’m not a No-Maj. I’m a witch.” Sabrina flashed what she hoped was a passably charming smile. “Actually, I work for the Magical Congress of the United States of America, Auror Division. And I love it when I can tell my boss that I met a wizard who knew how to handle himself in public. It’s such a relief.”

The man stared at her for a moment. “Miss…ahh…”

“Sabrina. Sabrina Deanne.”

“Ms. Deanne, I…I am afraid you are mistaken. My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, and I am… Well, I was…” He cast his troubled eyes to the ground. “I’m a man who lost everything in the world that mattered to him. Who got the only other woman he might have been able to love killed. But I am not a wizard.”

The situation in Sabrina’s head suddenly became very, very loud.

Oh, this was _so_ not good.

*~*~*

The odds were pretty amazing that just as they started unloading the car Mom would pull into the garage.

“How many bathroom breaks did you make? You were way closer than us,” Dean asked his mother the moment she opened the door.

“Shut up,” Mary snapped. “Some of us can’t just use an empty bottle.”

Sam flashed a smile as he walked over to help her with her bags. He stopped quickly when he noticed there was an occupant in the passenger seat. “Mom?”

“It’s okay. Her name’s Dawn and she a hunter needing a place to crash for a bit.”

Dawn opened the door and waved. “Hi.”

Sam waved back. “Hi.”

Mary shrugged. “I figured we have more than enough rooms for a guest.”

Dean gave a humorless chuckle. “We _did.”_

His mom gave him a confused look. “Huh?”

Sam shuffled awkwardly. “We kinda already invited some guests to stay for a while.”

“ _We_ my ass!” Dean snapped. “No, this was all Sam and Wright.”

“Wright?” Mary asked.

“Zack Wright. Old hunting buddy of Dad’s,” Sam explained. “First we ran into these vampires with souls. Really old school ones that have different powers than most. But it was okay because they have souls.”

“Excuse me?” Dawn said as she hopped out of the car. “Did you just say they have souls?”

“No,” Dean clarified. “That douche does not. That carjacking Billy Idol cosplayer doesn’t. So Sam invites him for an extended sleepover.”

Mary’s eyes went wide. “You’re telling me there’s a soulless vampire inside?”

“It’s okay!” Sam reassured. “He’s reformed. Or something like that.”

“So he steals my car.”

Sam turned to give his brother a dirty look. “His mate was kidnapped. Cut him a break.”

“What?” Dawn shouted, taking the others all by surprise.

“It’s all good because she escaped,” Sam said. “They just came along to help protect this girl called the Slayer, who is Wright’s daughter. She and her trainer are here because there’s this group out of Los Angeles who want her dead. Actually murdered another one of these girls trying to get to her.”

“Who?” Dawn asked.

Dean gave her a questioning look. “Faith. Her name was Faith.”

“Wow,” Mary said. “That’s a lot of people.”

“Yeah, sorry, but I’m out,” Dawn said before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing her backpack. “You and your sons were one thing, but I’m not going into a whole herd of crazy.”

“You didn’t tell her about Cas?” Dean asked.

“No,” Mary snapped. “Because people don’t meet angels every day, Dean.”

“I kinda forgot that wasn’t normal.”

“Yup. Thanks, Mary. I’m gone,” Dawn said, turning toward the open garage door. 

“Dawn!” Mary called after her. “There isn’t much of anything for miles.”

Dawn sighed and slowed her pace, but didn’t turn around. “At least the sun is coming up. I’ve hiked in worse.”

“Wait!” Sam called. He really didn’t blame the woman for the way she reacted. It was intimidating enough following someone back to an unknown group. Add in the extra dose of paranormal crazy and he’d likely be the same way. “Can I at least drive you to the closest motel?”

Dawn turned around at the offer and gave Sam a weary look. He could tell she wasn’t thrilled, but she also didn’t look like she was really in the condition to take off walking for miles. “Which one are you?”

“Sam.”

She gave a look to Mary. “He’s not the man-whore, right?”

“Mom!” Dean scoffed. “I prefer ladies’ man. At least scoundrel.”

“Your virtue is safe with Samuel,” Mary assured with a smile.

Dawn locked eyes with Sam and he did have to admit she was attractive. Much too attractive to be out hunting on her own, in his opinion. She furrowed her brow and gave him a single nod. “Okay.”

Sam was exhausted, but a sudden burst of adrenaline gave him a second wave of energy. “Cool.”


	33. Chapter 33

Rosalie suppressed a groan as her greatest weakness struck and awoke her. Glancing at Nick, she sighed and stealthily rolled out of bed.

Grabbing his tee, she quickly pulled it on and tiptoed out the room and to the bathroom.

“Fucking bladder,” she grumbled as she peed.

Then, she quietly trekked back to bed, grateful to not meet anyone in the hall when she’d forgone panties.

Once she crawled back on the mattress, she snuggled up to her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. She had a boyfriend. A boyfriend who had ridden her of the V-card she’d been dying to lose.

She didn’t feel as different as she thought. Oh, she’d enjoyed it. She definitely understood what the fuss was with sex and the happies. But she didn’t suddenly feel like she was any more an adult than she’d felt yesterday. Maybe because she’d felt like she’d acted like an adult since puberty.

“You okay?” Nick whispered into the dark.

“Just had to pee.”

“I meant are you sore? I know the first time…”

She smiled. For a dude who talked about how much meaningless sex he’d had, he was really pretty considerate. Either he was the most thoughtful man-whore alive or he really did love her.

With him it was a toss-up.

“I can tell there was a foreign object up my vagina, but not in a bad way. Mostly.”

“You have the worst phrasing at times.”

“Yeah, you’ve met the guy who raised me. He’s not known for the verbal filter.”

She felt his body stiffen. Not in the good way. “About that…”

“I don’t have Daddy issues so don’t go there.”

“He knows.”

“I would hope everyone knows that.”

“I mean he knows you and I are sleeping together.”

If he thought this would shock her, he was gonna be disappointed. “Pretty much figured Spike would tattle that the first chance he got. He isn’t going to file charges. One, I turn eighteen in a couple weeks and two, that would kinda tell everyone where we are.”

“He’s given Spike permission to harm me.”

“Because we’re together? Because Buffy will back me up in taking him on.”

“More if I hurt you, I think.”

Rosalie laughed. “If you hurt me, I’ll kill you way before he gets a chance to find you. But I will let him dispose of the body.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and she began to worry she might have gone a bit too far.

“So, you think your father and Spike won’t kill me for sleeping with you?”

“Scare you? Yes. Intimidate and threaten you? Sure. Possibly beat you up a bit? Likely. Kill you? No.”

He relaxed and wrapped his arms around her. “Okay.”

“So we good?”

Once again, he grew quiet. “The Council is on its way.”

She gave an involuntary shudder and hugged him tighter. “I kinda hoped you could just tell them Buffy was going to train me.”

“I warned them not to try anything. Let them know you were guarded by a lot more than just me. Hopefully whoever is coming understands that.”

“Yeah.”

“Spike pointed out something.”

She pulled back a bit. “Spike? When did you talk to him? When did you listen to him?”

“He overheard me when I called England. When you were in the shower.”

“When he told you about Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “Toughen up. He’s like a dog. He senses fear and likes to jerk your chain.”

“No,” he said. “Well, yes. But not that. You saw this place doesn’t have much to offer.”

“This place has everything to offer! I’m totally going to learn sword slaying.”

“Not the bunker, love. Kansas. Well, here Kansas. You saw it when we were out with Cas. He had to drive us half an hour away to get to a Walmart.”

She nodded. “And it wasn’t a Supercenter. Very lame.”

“A slayer needs stuff to slay. And it seems this area is pretty well slayed. Spike said this is basically a demonic Mayberry.”

“So?”

“So, it means you’d have to go out on the road to train.”

“I’m following…what’s the problem?”

“I highly doubt your new Watcher will want an entourage of two vampires and a boyfriend.”

“Oh.” She didn’t like this idea. “Me no likies.”

“Ditto.” He sighed. “Spike did mention something that may help.”

“We reject the Watcher and Buffy trains me?”

“I’m unemployed.”

“For like eight hours. Not enough time to panic, dork.”

“There’s a way to attract a population to the area that could be a benefit to you and your training. But it would require some help. And money. And work. And money.”

“Dad always told me I have a college fund. I can ask for it.”

Nick grunted. “I’m not taking your college fund.”

“You helped me drop out of school. Little late to take the moral high ground.”

“Well, the line stops at a bar.”

She blinked. “A bar? Your solution is an unlimited supply of alcohol?”

“A sanctuary bar.” Then he added, “And an unlimited supply of alcohol is always a solution.”

“Like Caritas?”

“Yes. While rare, Caritas isn’t unprecedented. There are places around the world set up to give demons a chance to interact without a fear of death or violence. Some seek it out as a place to negotiate with rival groups or species. Others use it to simply come out and mix with society. Or exchange gossip.”

“But then you have all the baddies that take their shit outside. The ones who cause the trouble after hours.”

“How the hell did you think of that? Spike literally spelled it out to me.”

She gave him a condescending pat on the chest. “Don’t feel bad, Mr. Hunter. Your family didn’t spend its weekends patrolling the streets of LA looking for stuff to kill in the night. Granted, we only had that kind of bonding on nights Dad didn’t have a case to work. Sometimes, when we weren’t too bloody, he’d even take me out for pancakes when we were done.”

“That is possibly the most fucked up part of your childhood I’ve heard yet.”

She shrugged. “No, it’s not.”

He sighed. “No, it’s not.” He kissed the top of her head.

“So are you going to get Lorne to help you? I can call him if you want.”

“You have the owner of Caritas’ number?”

“Do you not know me at all? He was like my babysitter. Nikki would take me there and drop me off when she had a date. There’s actually a drink named after me. Ever try the Rosy Posey?”

“I give up. I officially give up trying to understand your life.”

“Can I name it?” she asked as she rolled herself on top of him.

“Name it?”

“The bar. Please!” She suppressed a reaction to the erection she felt growing against her stomach. “I mean, you’re doing it for me after all.”

She felt him flex his hips when she leaned forward to kiss him. Playfully, she nipped at his lower lip when she pulled back. “I got loads of good ones.”

“Loads?” he asked.

“Mmm hmm.” She wiggled forward and gasped when his cock grazed up against her dampening slit.

“So you’re on board with this idea?” Nick questioned as he grabbed the hem of the shirt she was wearing and tugged it upward.

“You owning a sanctuary bar is basically me owning a bar,” she replied as she yanked the tee over her head and tossed it to the floor.

“I didn’t realize you’d find this idea so,” he paused to press his dick between her folds and against her clit. “Exciting.”

Yeah, she forgot what they were talking about. All she knew was she was ready to feel him inside her again. “Nick,” she moaned softly.

She felt him reach over toward the nightstand and grab a condom. “You can name it, Rose.”

*~*~*

After throwing the door open, Dean let it slam the wall before flipping on the light.

“Morning, sunshine,” Spike called out with closed eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Dean gagged at the sight of the naked couple sprawled across his bed. While Buffy was wrapped in a sheet, Spike was completely exposed. With a semi.

“Son of bitch!” he growled. “This is my room!”

“Yup!” Spike chirped.

“Sorry,” an awake Buffy said shyly.

“And my bed!”

“It’s comfy,” Spike teased. “Doesn’t seem like it’d had much wear.”

“It’s memory foam!”

“And now it can remember what a proper shag feels like.”

“I’m burning it,” Dean declared as he reached in his pocket. “With you in it.” He pulled out a lighter and flicked up a flame.

“If you catch me on fire, my wife will get cranky when I kill you. Especially if you hurt the mattress.”

“Fuck you guys. I’m going to sleep down the hall. When I wake up, I want you and the mattress out of here.”

“No problem, mate. But we’re kinda peckish. Can I borrow your keys to go grab a bite?”

“FUCK!” Dean grabbed the knob and slammed the door shut.

He heard the vampire’s laughter from the other side of the wood. “FUCK YOU ALL!” Dean shouted before walking down the hall.

Finding the first empty room, he slammed the door. Kicking off his shoes, he flopped on the bed with bitter resentment. No memory foam.

Great, he had to go to sleep hearing the kid having sex next door. Maybe he’d get lucky and die before he woke up.

*~*~*

It took Sabrina longer than she was proud to admit to collect herself. Even longer for her brain to inform her of the necessary steps. She’d just reached one of her professional benchmarks and had spilled the beans about the magical world not ten minutes later to a No-Maj. If Toadmore learned about this…

Well, she could forget those fantasies about being his superior one day. She’d be lucky to be out of the Los Angeles Witches’ Penitentiary, never mind keep her job.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said, letting her wand slide out of her sleeve. “I thought you were a wizard.”

“If ever a wiz there was,” the man who called himself Wesley Wyndam-Pryce muttered, a pained smile coming across his face. “I’ve never gotten that one, but—”

“I’m sorry,” Sabrina said again as she lifted her wand. “I have to… I don’t want to, but I have to.”

Wesley frowned but otherwise didn’t react. “Have to what?” he asked, eyeballing the wand.

“Modify your memory.”

“Modify—what? Why?”

“No-Majes aren’t supposed to know about us.”

“I don’t even know what a No-Maj is.”

Sabrina hesitated, then figured, _what the hell_? Wasn’t like he was going to remember this, anyway. “Familiar with Harry Potter?”

“I… Well, not until recently, but yes.”

“No-Maj is the American term for Muggle. The nonmagic population. It’s a federal crime for a witch or wizard to divulge these secrets.”

The frown deepened. “Then…why did you assume I was a wizard? Wouldn’t it have been better to ascertain that information beforehand?”

“You knew how to slay a vampire!” she blurted. “That’s something only wizards, witches, and vampire slayers do.” And MACUSA only got involved with the vampiric community when absolutely necessary—when a vamp posed a threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, which wasn’t often because vampires benefitted from No-Maj ignorance. Easier to hunt their prey.

Wesley stared at her, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You…believe that the Slayer is the only nonmagical person who fights vampires? I’m sorry, Miss…”

“Deanne,” she said stupidly, but seemingly unable to help herself. “Sabrina Deanne.”

“Ms. Deanne… I am the co-owner of a private investigation firm that exists solely to banish and kill demons, break curses, and fight the undead.” Something pained flicked across his face, but it was gone too quickly for her to analyze. “And business has been very, very good.”

The words made no sense. “How long as this been going on?”

“More than a decade. And the law firm Wolfram and Hart—”

“I am familiar with Wolfram and Hart.” MACUSA was the firm’s largest and most important client. “The No-Majes there have clearance to work—”

“If you know about Wolfram and Hart, it should be no surprise that many of your No-Majes are in the know,” Wesley replied. “They make deals with everyone.”

That didn’t sound right. “I think you must be mistaken.”

A bitter laugh tore at Wesley’s throat, and his eyes were suddenly shining with tears. “I would give anything, Ms. Deanne… _anything_ to be mistaken. They made a deal with the father of a…I won’t say friend, because he’s not anymore, but a man I know. Vampire, actually. A deal that resulted in the vampire’s soul being ripped from his body, turning him into a monster who killed numerous people, including the woman I loved. And in my grief and anger, I made a deal with _them_ to exact vengeance on this vampire, once his soul had been restored. And my deal cost me…everything. My relationships, my business…and again, a woman I loved. Why else do you think I’m wandering around cemeteries at three o’clock in the morning?”

“Why?” she asked hoarsely, not sure she wanted the answer.

“Partly because I can’t sleep. Partly because I have nowhere to go. Mostly because I hope something kills me. So you’ll excuse me if your threat to modify my memory fails to upset me.”

That was… She almost wanted to cry herself, which was weird, because Sabrina was not a crier. And his claims about Wolfram and Hart… Well, they couldn’t be true—they just couldn’t. Wolfram and Hart had a hand in various paranormal communities—she’d known they conducted business with an assortment of magical creatures, which was precisely why they’d been selected by MACUSA as the perfect firm bridging the magical and nonmagical worlds.

How in the world was she to go about erasing the memories of a person whose life was so intimately intertwined with the magical world? Could she? Was it even possible?

“Actually,” Wesley said a moment later, a strange light brightening his wet eyes, “that sounds…somewhat wonderful.”

“What?”

“Modifying my memory, as you said.” He extended his arms. “Take this meeting. Take the last few weeks. Take as much as you can.”

“Mr. Wyndam-Pryce—”

“I can’t live with the burden of what I’ve done, Ms. Deanne. To Faith, Rosalie…even Zack.” He shook his head. “Modify the hell out of those memories. You have my permission. I don’t want to remember this. I just want… Just do it.”

For the first time in her professional career, Sabrina Deanne was at a loss.

*~*~*

“I’d tell you that it’s normally not like that at the bunker,” the tall hot guy said, flashing her a charming, self-effacing smile, “but…we don’t really have a normal around here.”

Dawn wished she could find her own smile to give back to him, but her mind was tripping over itself as she again tried to do the math on the probability that of every town in this country, her sister and brother-in-law would land at the same place where the woman who had saved her lived. She was also trying not to panic too much at the abridged version of events she’d learned—that Buffy had been kidnapped, _again_ , and Spike had apparently stolen a car. Well, that sounded normal enough. Also normal? Not getting a phone call from anyone to let Dawnie Summers in on what was going on in her sister’s life.

All a part of Buffy’s perfect plan to keep Dawn out of the supernatural world and get a nice, boring business degree, she was sure.

“I’m not much for normal,” she said at last, stealing another glance of the giant hunk. Though she’d cut out her own tongue before she admitted it, he kind of reminded her of Angel. Only he smiled more and definitely smelled better. And he had a pulse, which was a big nonnegotiable in Dawn Summer’s book. Buffy was the one who dated dead guys.

“I guess I’m not either,” Hunky replied.

_Sam_ , _stupid,_ she berated herself.

“Though I’d…like to be,” he added a moment later. “Some day. It’s nice to think about retiring.”

Dawn snickered.

Sam pulled his gaze off the road long enough to favor her with a skeptical look. “Something funny?”

“I… Well, I can’t imagine retiring. Ever. Feels too much like giving up and letting the bad guys win.”

“So you plan on being one of those geriatric hunters. They do seem to go out in a blaze of glory.”

“I just don’t see the point in drawing imaginary lines in the sand,” Dawn replied. “I’ve heard a lot of guys talk the talk. Just one more, they say. One more hunt and that’s the end. And maybe they do go quiet for a few months, but for most of them, all it ever is is talk.”

“So you don’t lament not having a normal life?”

Ugh. Normal life. If Dawn never had to hear that insipid phrase ever again, it’d be too soon. “What the hell is a normal life?” she said, probably with more fire than the conversation warranted, but she couldn’t help herself. “Who gets to decide what’s normal? Is graduating college normal? Or not having enough money for higher education, so you start working dead-end jobs to make ends meet? How about a crapton of student loans you’re going to be paying from beyond the grave, all the while you compete in a job market that doesn’t want you. You’re too qualified for McDonald’s, and hey, you only spent four years clawing your way to this degree, but what they need is two years’ experience for an entry level job that pays just a smidge over minimum wage. Or if you didn’t go to school, you’re stuck bagging groceries or working in some factory, doing the same thing day after day after day, and that’s just for the people who are lucky enough to land those terrible gigs. Maybe normal is taking out food stamps while half the country looks down their nose at you because you have a cellphone. Or having to decide between a roof over your head and reupping your insulin. Is normal killing yourself every day for a job that means nothing and doesn’t love you? Because that’s not the kind of normal I want. And it’s damn sure not the kind of normal I can live knowing what I know about the real world.”

There was nothing for a moment, and after she stopped ranting, Dawn could admit she felt a little foolish. Whatever else, no one—Sam or Mary or whoever—deserved to have her unload on them at the slightest provocation.

Sam cleared his throat. “I…just meant a house, husband, kids. That…kind of normal.”

Dawn released a low breath. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“You know all the things that are out there, right?” She waited for a nod, then continued, “Well, so do I. And after you’ve stopped the world from ending a time or twelve, you start to think that maybe this _isn’t_ the kind of world you want to subject babies to.”

“You…raise a good point.” He flashed her another one of those smiles. “So…saved the world, huh? I’m surprised we haven’t run into each other before, unless you’re covering apocalypses I’m not aware of.”

Dawn felt her cheeks go hot. “I… Well, I guess it wasn’t really…me. Saving the world. That’s more my sister’s thing.”

“Your sister’s in the life, too?”

She felt the sudden, intense urge to laugh. The fact that he wouldn’t get the joke made it impossible to fight, and the next thing she knew, she was laughing. Hard, ugly cackles that sounded insane to her own ears, which made the situation impossibly funnier. Dawn doubled over, unable to get a hold of herself. The bewildered, worried look Sam shot her sent her over the edge, and her whole body dissolved. She wrapped her arms around her middle and laughed until her sides and throat hurt, her eyes burning with tears. By the time the situation stopped seeming so hilarious, Dawn noticed Sam had pulled over and was studying her with intense, fierce scrutiny that would probably make any other woman either assume they were about to be axe-murdered or hit on.

“Dawn…are you okay?”

The question was so stupid she couldn’t help but laugh again, which seemed to genuinely alarm him. She didn’t laugh quite as hard or for as long this time, and when she finished, she felt like she’d run a marathon.

“I can’t outrun the PTB,” she muttered, wiping at her cheeks. “And it’s not like I’ll get very far anyway. If she’s staying with you, she’ll be able to smell me on your mom. In this car.”

“What… Who? Are you running from someone?”

“Not anymore. She was bound to find out sometime.” She wiped the last of her laughter-induced tears away and forced herself to focus. “Yeah, Sam, my sister’s in the life. And from the way you guys were talking, she and my brother-in-law are your houseguests.”

Sam blinked dazedly. “I… What? Your sister is Buffy—”

“The Vampire Slayer,” Dawn said, nodding. “The one and only.”

“And you’re…running from her? Is she dangerous?”

“She can be,” Dawn replied. “To you? No. To me? Well, once she finds out I dropped out of college and have been hunting demons the past two years…probably, very, yes.”

Sam stared at her, unmoving for a long moment. As though willing her to crack up again or wink and tell him she was just kidding. At length, he shook his head, looking as displaced and confused as she felt. “I don’t understand how this is possible,” he muttered. “We met Buffy by accident. Just a few days ago. And they’re staying with us because of—”

“Wright’s daughter,” Dawn agreed, nodding again. “I heard. Makes sense. Spike’s always been protective of her. And me.”

“But…what are the odds that we’d run into Buffy and Mom would run into you and _both—_ ”

“Like I said. You can’t outrun the PTB. Pretty sure this is their way of telling me to stop being a chicken-shit.”

“The PTB?”

“Powers That Be. Or if you’d rather, God.”

“Chuck.”

“What?”

“Never mind.” Sam blew out a long breath, turning to stare out of the windshield, where the first rays of sun were cracking over the horizon. “So…you’re Buffy’s sister, you’re a hunter, but she doesn’t know that. She thinks you’re at college and isn’t going to be happy when she learns she’s wrong.”

“Maybe now you get what I found so funny.” She waved a hand. “Buffy wanted me to have a normal life because she didn’t get a choice, but she never stopped to consider that she wasn’t giving me one, either. It was be normal or else. And after everything she’s done for me, I wanted to try to do what she asked. Except I can’t be normal. I’m not even—” She cut herself off before she could drop the whole _other-dimensional key_ thing on him.

Sam thought he had the market cornered on crazy? He was sitting next to a twenty-five year-old woman who had only been alive for ten years. That would make his head hurt.

“So,” he said at last, turning his attention back to her, “where am I taking you?”

“What?”

“Well…you seem to really not want to see your sister.”

That was just it. She did want to see Buffy. She’d missed…this. Missed the thrill of being in the thick of things and how it made her feel. She missed being with people, having been on her own too damn long.

She missed her sister.

“No, I gotta.” Dawn put on a brave face. “Take me back.”

Sam didn’t move. “Are you sure?”

_No._ “Yeah. Like I said, the PTB get their way. Plus, Buffy’s going to be extra cranky when she learns I was here and a cranky Buffy is a dangerous Buffy.”

“She doesn’t need to learn you were here, Dawn.”

“Sam, you know she’s a vampire, right? And even if she wasn’t, Spike is. They’re essentially bloodhounds in human form. Like I said—she’ll be able to smell me. They both will.” Dawn released a deep breath. “Turn this thing around. It’s time to go face the music.”

Sam still looked uncertain, but he turned the ignition anyway. Fifteen seconds and a U-turn later, they were back on the road.

She just hoped she had enough time to figure out what to say.

*~*~*

Since falling in love with Spike, Buffy felt she had loosened up a little. Or a lot, actually. She’d become less modest and more accustomed to his occasionally brash way of doing things. Granted, there was a line. And flaunting that he’d fucked her bowl-legged in Dean Winchester’s room was that line.

Not that she had much room to talk. She’d known it was Dean’s room as well as he had. At the time, she’d been too happy to see a bed that she didn’t have to get out of for the foreseeable future. And yeah, once Spike was in the mix, he could talk a good girl into doing very bad things.

Still, after Dean stomped off and she was left with Spike’s amused chuckles, she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.

“Oh, come on, Slayer,” Spike protested when she scooted out of bed. “Just one more go in here. It’s gonna take bloody weeks to air the smell out.”

“We are _guests_ ,” Buffy replied, searching through the discarded laundry on the floor for her underwear. When she found them, they were in two pieces. Spike was hard as hell on Victoria’s Secret.

“And guests get the comfy bed,” Spike replied, propping his hands behind his head. “Wanker wasn’t even using it properly. Beds like this beg to be shagged in…what?”

She arched an eyebrow and held up the scraps of fabric that used to be her panties.

Spike just grinned and shrugged. “One of these days you’ll learn to stop wearing them.”

“You realize it’s your money I spend on these things.”

“Right. So you can’t complain when I rip ‘em off.”

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes, tossing the fabric into the waste-bucket. A few seconds later, she succeeded in finding her pants which were, thankfully, still wearable. “Get dressed,” she said. “We’re moving out.”

“Now?” When she looked back at him, she found him pouting. “Sweetheart, the boy’s gonna conk out. Might as well get in a few winks now.”

She narrowed her eyes into a glare. Spike huffed and rolled to his feet.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered, plucking his jeans off the ground. “Bloody buzz-kill. We’re at least taking the mattress, right? He said he didn’t want it anymore.”

Buffy considered this, then sighed and held out a hand. “What cash do you have on you?”

“From the look on your face, I don’t think it’s in my best interest to answer this question.”

“Spike, we’re buying him a new mattress.”

“Bugger that. It’s not my fault he’s throwing a tantrum. Little tyke had to learn about the birds and bees sometime.”

Buffy didn’t reply, just made a grabby motion with her hands. After a long beat, Spike muttered a curse and reached into his pocket. “You know how many hands of cards I had to play to earn this?” he asked, handing it over.

“You mean cheat at.”

“You say that like it’s not hard work.”

Buffy fought a grin, pealing a nice little stack of hundreds from the wad he’d handed her. “So is making nice when you’re antagonizing our hosts.”

“To be fair, it’s against my nature.”

“To be fair, I know that.” She approached, arched up to kiss him, then grabbed her discarded shirt off the floor. “Go find us a nice _unoccupied_ room. I’ll move the mattress.”

Spike rolled his eyes, kissed her again, and stalked out into the hallway, muttering something about virtuous slayers and their wonky sense of ethics.

Buffy stripped the bedding off the mattress. Since this much could be washed, she decided not to assume that Dean meant everything their naked bodies had touched was verboten, so she left it in a pile in a corner to be washed. She had just hefted the mattress over her head when the echo of a heartbeat announced the presence of the room’s rightful occupant.

“Actually, I want you…” Dean stopped in the doorway, his eyes going wide. “Uhh…wow.”

“Thank you,” Buffy replied dryly, correcting her stance when the mattress dipped too far in one direction to right it again. “And while I’m flattered, I have to pass.”

“You’re…lifting a whole mattress over your head.”

“And you’re stating the obvious, mate,” Spike replied, edging into the room behind him. “Found us a nice cozy corner far away from these wankers. Fancy we can make as much noise down there as we like. There’s not much to it, but I’ve done more with less.”

Buffy nodded. “When we got together, he was living in an actual crypt,” she told Dean, making her way toward the door. “He managed to make it really homey.”

“I…I…”

“Thought you were off catching kip,” Spike said. “That was you who flounced off here a few minutes ago, right? Virtue fluttering?”

That seemed to snap Dean out of his daze. “Hey. My virtue doesn’t flutter.”

“Keep telling yourself that, mate.”

“Spike?”

“Right behind you, love,” he said, and appeared at her side when she reached the door just in time to help her lower the mattress to negotiate the corner. Buffy felt his hand slip into her pocket, and was about to snap at him for copping a feel when he pulled out the bills she’d put there and said, “Oh, and mate. You’re lucky the lady’s a soft touch.”

“What the hell…?”

“Feature you can buy yourself a new mattress to waste away all those celibate nights for that.”

Apparently, this startled Dean so much he didn’t have an immediate reply. Which was good because, though it wasn’t heavy, the mattress was cumbersome and Buffy was eager to rehome it.

The room Spike had found was, indeed, rather cozy, and tucked far away from the front foyer and the other bedrooms. Another good thing because, as much as she supported Rosalie, it was rather icky listening to the girl get fucked. There wasn’t much else in the room aside from the mattress, once she got there, but it had potential. And no windows, which always helped her sleep better, ring or not.

Buffy had just situated their new mattress in a corner when Spike reappeared, his arms full of the bedding she’d left behind.

“The virgin said we could help ourselves to this.”

She arched an eyebrow.

“Well, and he whined to his mum about the big, nasty vamps who sullied his bedroom.”

“His…mom?”

“Yeah. Nice lady. Just arrived, from the looks of it. She’s waiting for the tall one to get back.” Neither his tone nor his words matched the frown on his face. “Bit strange, though. Coulda sworn I got a whiff of… But it’s probably nothing.”

Except in her world, it was always something. Always. Buffy’s stomach knotted. “What?”

An explosion of sound from the other end of the bunker stole whatever he was about to say, and then they were both in motion, racing toward Dean’s nonsensical yelling and Sam—had to be Sam—telling him to calm down.

And then, yes, Buffy smelled it, and her heart, dead thing it was, jumped. She burst into the main meeting room with Spike on her heels, then skidded to a halt when her eyes landed on her baby sister.

Her baby sister who was in Lebanon, Kansas and _not_ Tulane University.

Dawn stared at her. Buffy stared back.

“Bloody hell,” Spike muttered.

“Hi guys,” Dawn said, giving a little wave with a strained grin. “Surprise!”

Dean was looking between Buffy and Dawn. “What the hell is this? You know her?” He turned to Dawn. “You’re not a vampire slayer too, are you? How many of you are running around out there?”

“Nope, not a slayer,” Dawn answered without looking at him. “Just your average, run-of-the-mill vampire slayer’s…kid sister.”

Dean looked at Sam, who nodded. Then he rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air. “Of course she’s the kid sister. Of course. Son of a bitch.”

“Well, you’re not yelling yet,” Dawn said, venturing a step toward Buffy. “That’s…already better than I thought.”

Buffy wasn’t yelling yet because what she was seeing made no sense. Dawn was here, _here_ , and she was supposed to be in New Orleans. But she wasn’t. And from the look of things, she hadn’t been for a long time.

“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “First question. We’ve been sending tuition payments like clockwork. I guess you haven’t been getting them?”

“Oh, I’ve been getting them.” Dawn tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking older than Buffy had ever seen her. “But… Buffy, I need to tell you something.”

“You dropped out of school.” Obvious fact number one.

“Yes.”

“You’re a hunter.” Obvious fact number two.

Dawn blinked in surprise, which was just insulting. “Yes…?”

“And you have some explaining to do.”

*~*~*

After she’d followed him into the shower to continue their new sexual relationship, Nick was certain Rosalie was using sex as a distraction.

Not that he really minded being used or manipulated by sex. He’d swiftly determined it was his favorite form of divertissement. Unfortunately it didn’t stop the reality that the Council was currently racing this direction with a brand new Watcher to oversee Rosalie for her remaining days as the active Slayer.

After a long and often counterproductive time in the bathroom, he’d managed to get them both dressed and heading toward the kitchen. He wasn’t overly shocked to find a new face sitting at the kitchen table with Castiel.

“Whoa,” the guy said with wide eyes as he looked up at them, a beer held midway between the table and his lips. “You’re joking, right?”

“Dean,” Castiel said in his usual flat tone. “This is Rosalie and her Watcher, Nicholas.”

Dean blinked and shook his head. “I can’t believe you grew up. And grew hot.”

“Thanks!” Rosalie chirped.

Nick cleared his throat loudly. “Hunter.”

Dean gave him a quizzical look. “Yeah, join the club, buddy.”

“My name. Nick Hunter.”

Dean gave a low chuckle before sipping his beer. “Ironic. Name’s also your soon-to-be job title. Spike said something about having to resign due to inappropriate student/teacher relations.”

Rosalie gave Nick a look when he shuffled uncomfortably. “Yeah, sorry. Grew up and got a boyfriend.”

Dean smiled at her. “You’re safe with me, Jailbait. Though I’m not sure what this weird teacher’s union does about fraternizing with the underage colleagues.”

A voice from the door answered. “Back in the day it was execution.”

“Spike!” Buffy and Rosalie snapped in unison.

“He’s right,” Castiel said to Dean.

“Well, since we didn’t consummate our relationship before my resignation, that part should be fine.”

“But there was sexual activity,” Castiel responded as he looked to Nick. “If you remember I walked in just as you both had rubbed each other to orgasm.”

The room erupted into a symphony of strangled coughs and giggles. The most amused reactions were from Dean and Spike.

Nick was beginning to suspect Dean wasn’t going to be an ally.

“Okay!” Rosalie said in an elevated voice. “Subject change! Hunter here tells me that Buffy can’t be my Watcher.”

Buffy shook her head. “Stupid British boys think they can do a better job than an actual Slayer.”

“Watch it, love,” Spike muttered.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Case in point.” She turned her focus to Rosalie. “I figure they’ll send some dummy like they tried with Faith. A tea-drinking encyclopedia of useless.”

Nick appreciated how she avoided saying his name. He had too much to worry about to get caught up in his anger and betrayal at the moment.

“So,” Buffy continued. “We let him pretend he’s worth the plane ticket over here. In the meantime, I’ll handle the hand-to-hand. Spike can handle the demon psychology. Hunter can handle research.”

“Sammy has a pretty good research record,” Dean interjected.

“Great,” Buffy said with a nod. “Plus we always have Giles on the dial. Castiel has definitely got the cosmic corner covered.”

“I may not have superhuman strength, but don’t think I can’t handle myself in a fight.” Dean toasted the air before tipping back his bottle for a drink.

Spike nodded. “Don’t forget we got Li’l Bit now as well as Mummy Winchester.” Spike then turned to Dean. “Is she always so bossy? Never had a human send me to my room before.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, don’t expect to get much slack from her. When she said she wanted Dawn to rest, she meant business.”

Nick blinked. “You live with your mum?”

“Wait,” Rosalie said holding up a hand. “Your mom was dead.”

“She was,” Castiel said with no explanation.

“Then what?” Buffy asked.

Dean shrugged. “She got better.”

Spike snickered. “And here we thought we had the market cornered.”

Buffy flashed her husband a warm smile before turning back to Rosalie. “So that’s my plan and I’m sticking to it.”

Nick was relieved. For the first time since this nightmare of a week began, he genuinely felt they had a solid foot forward.

Now they would just have to wait and see what the Council has in store.

*~*~*

It was amazing what a sleep could do for the mind. Whether it was pure mental and physical exhaustion or the couple of Xanax he’d swiped from Cordelia Wright’s prescription bottle in the bathroom cabinet didn’t matter. Sam woke up refreshed and renewed to embrace the world he now was a member.

A world in which his son was floating a foot above his bassinet.

Sam scrambled out of bed and grabbed him. While he’d seemed perfectly content sleeping in midair, Sam was not.

He also was curious as to whether Willow’s parents had any pointers.

“Huh?” Willow said, sitting up. His quick reaction had obviously awakened her.

“Sorry, babe,” Sam said as he rocked Oz in his arms. “Still adjusting to the wizard dad thing.”

“What was he doing?” she groaned as she flopped back on her pillow.

“Levitating.”

“Ugh. I don’t get it.”

“What?”

She rolled over to look at him. “Technically I’m a Muggle. My magic came to me through years of study and experience. I know wizards can be Muggle-born, but there would be so many more 911 recordings if they all floated and snowed themselves.”

Sam shrugged. “Guess all that magic of yours made it to the womb.”

“And he did do most of his growing inside a magic castle.”

“His future siblings are going to be so disappointing.”

Willow gave him a terrified look. “You want more children?”

Sam shook his head. “Not for a very, very long time.”

Willowed sighed with relief. “Thank god we agree on something.”

After placing the baby back in the bassinet, Sam sat down on the bed. “About that, I wanted to talk.”

“Uh oh.” Willow raised herself up to a sitting position.

Sam gave a nervous laugh. “No. I don’t think you need to worry. Sleep cleared my perspective on a few things and I wanted to let you know that. I was wrong and I apologize.”

Willow nodded. “Thank you.” A beat. “What are you apologizing for?”

“It was absolutely ridiculous to try and pretend there was any rational way for the normal and paranormal worlds to coexist. People were actually making a deal out of the fact I was a single guy potentially running for President. If they’re still arguing on gay rights and a woman’s right to choose, there’s no way they can handle witches and vampires and demons and angels.”

Willow gave him a sad smile. “Yup.”

“And you were right about running too. There’s no way I can run for president. Not now. Maybe not ever. And I’m okay with that.” He paused when he saw the skeptical look she gave him. “Really. Because I could never properly execute the office knowing that I was not only endangering you and Oz, but possibly the whole country.”

“Sorry meeting me ruined your life.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Honestly, I realize I wasn’t really living until I met you. You opened my eyes to the truth of reality. And you gave me the most magical thing of all.” His eyes focused on Oz and he almost started to cry. “No, I can’t live with my foot in two worlds. That’s why I’m walking into the crazy world of levitating snowbabies.”

“Well, I’d like to tell you what’s awaiting you, but truth is I have no damn idea myself.”

“Good. I kinda like knowing I’m not the only one completely lost.”

*~*~*

He had no idea why, but he felt better than he had in days. Hell, maybe weeks. Like a pressure that had taken up residence inside his chest had finally been alleviated, and he was breathing clearly for the first time.

Wesley stopped to buy coffee—decaf, just something to keep him warm—on the way back to the Hyperion, tipped the barista, and even tossed the poor newspaper girl a wink as he grabbed the morning edition of the LA Times. By the time he crossed the threshold into the hotel-turned-agency, he was whistling.

It was early morning—early enough for him to wonder what the hell he’d been doing out without a weapon, but not so much that his mood took a dive. The hour meant Wright and Cordelia were probably cuddled up in bed, if the baby hadn’t kept them up. Wesley was unsurprised, then, to find the lobby empty.

Well, not empty. Vampires, magical rings or not, didn’t keep normal hours.

“Good morning, Zack!” he said brightly. “Glorious morning, isn’t it?”

Zack sat on one of the sofas, a large open book in his lap and exhaustion in his eyes. There was nothing for a moment as the vampire blinked at him like he was trying to decide if Wes was a hallucination or not. “W…Wes?”

“If I’d known you were up, I would have stopped by that place on Maple Grove. The chef had his signature blood biscuits, fresh from the oven. You know they’re only good hot.” Wes nodded at the book. “What are we researching, then?”

“Wes, what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep, I guess. Took a bit of a walk around the city.”

“You…you guess.”

“That’s right.”

Zack studied him for a moment, then, with as much care as if he were diffusing a bomb, set the thick tome on the coffee table and rose to his feet. “What about Rosalie?” he asked.

“Is she still out?” That would make Wright unhappy, but it the man would need to come to grips with the reality of his daughter being the Slayer one of these days. “I imagine Nick has her safe. Between you and me, I do think Faith had it right about the two of them.”

If possible, Zack went paler. “Faith,” he echoed.

At that, Wesley felt some of his good mood fade at last. _Faith._ Perhaps that was why he’d been so cheery—he’d gone more than a few minutes without thinking about her. Or the fact that she was dead, slain fighting the good fight. A death befitting a warrior but one that had come too soon. Before they’d had a chance to figure out what it was they meant to each other.

Not that Wesley didn’t know the answer to that. At least _his_ answer to that. He’d loved her. A different, grittier kind of love than the love he still felt for Fred, but a good, real love nonetheless. She’d kept him from breaking, after all. The world seemed somehow larger, lonelier without her.

“Wes…okay, I need you to stay right there.” Zack was backing up toward the staircase, his hands up, like he was trying to keep calm some wild animal. “Just…don’t move, okay?”

“Well, I am quite tired, actually. I was just about—”

“No. Just wait a second. I—Hermione has something to tell you.”

Wesley frowned. “Hermione…Granger-Weasley? From the Ministry of Magic? She’s here?”

“Okay, so, I guess that’s the line,” Zack muttered.

“What?”

“What? I mean yes. She’s here. And she’s been waiting for you to get back so she can…give you some news about…the Ministry.”

Wesley frowned. He wasn’t too familiar with the Ministry of Magic, outside of the negotiations they conducted with the Watcher’s Council, and he hadn’t been a watcher in quite some time. Nevertheless, knowing Ms. Granger-Weasley by reputation, he could hardly say he wasn’t eager to get to get to speak with her. Even under the oddest of circumstances.

“All right,” he agreed. “I’ll wait.”

*~*~*

In retrospect, it was probably a good thing that Mary Winchester had ordered them all to bed, as it gave Buffy ample opportunity to sort through her feelings on her sister’s unexpected presence. The truth of the matter had been obvious from the moment she’d seen Dawn standing there, but she hadn’t really grappled with the fact that her sister had been lying to her for god-knows-how-long.

“Slayer, I know it’ll be hard, but go easy on her,” Spike said after she returned to their room following her shower. Well, their shower, though she’d insisted—to be a good guest—that Spike sneak back first so it wasn’t painfully obvious what they’d been doing. The room they’d landed in for now didn’t have luxuries like an attached bath, which meant they were either going to have to find another one, move out, or she was going to need to shed the last vestiges of her modesty.

“All that money, Spike,” Buffy replied, toweling her hair. “Giles isn’t made of it. And neither are we.”

“You know damn well I can get money anywhere. Point of fact, you just ripped me off around fifteen hundred this morning.”

“That was for the mattress.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Still think you oughta low-balled him. It’s not our fault the git’s so bloody repressed.”

“It’s done.”

“You realize I’m gonna have to hit the bloody road to find another poker game to keep us fed.” He paused. “’Course, I could just try to win it all back…”

“Spike—”

“Somethin’ tells me he’s a bloke who can play a mean hand of cards.” He brought his hands up when she scowled at him. “All fair. No funny business. Won’t even use my trick deck.”

“You’re evil.”

“And you love it, baby.” Spike tossed her a T-shirt. “Now put that on so you can go talk to Nibblet before I find somethin’ more interesting to do with you.”

She did, plus a pair of leggings that earned more than one growl from her vampire. She tossed him a smirk over her shoulder and ventured back toward the main gathering room of the bunker.

It was empty, save for Sam Winchester, who was doing his best Giles impression, even if he didn’t know it. The table was lousy with books, all open and apparently all very interesting, as Sam didn’t seem to notice her until she was practically on top of him.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, stifling a smirk when he started and whipped his head up, “we already have another apocalypse.”

“Buffy.” He shook his head, breathing hard. “You…”

“Move like the dead? I get that a lot.” She sank into an empty chair and turned one of the books toward her and squinted at the text. “Okay, what’s the deal with this Men of Letters stuff? ‘Cause it looks to me like you guys are just playing Watchers Council, only without the pay.”

“It’s an organization that essentially catalogues the movements of the supernatural community,” Sam replied. “Records them, cracks mysteries, that sort of thing.”

“So like the research department of the Watchers Council.”

“I take it the Watchers Council is…”

“A slayer’s watcher is in charge of her training, skill-development, knowledge of the occult, and so on. Up until ’99, slayers pretty much worked for the Council.”

“What happened in ’99?”

Buffy offered a saccharine smile. “I did. I stopped playing by their rules and their choices were pretty much deal with it or kill me. Even though by then I technically wasn’t their slayer anymore—Faith was.”

Sam nodded, crossing his arms and closing the book he was reading. “Tell me about that,” he said, sounding genuinely intrigued. “I thought… From my reading, there can only be one slayer. Now it seems like they’re everywhere.”

“Short version—I died.” Buffy shrugged. “Well, twice, actually. The first time it was for like a minute at the most. The Master, an ancient evil vampire, bit me, then tossed me aside and I drowned in a puddle. A friend of mine did CPR and saved my life. But I was technically dead so…”

“Faith?”

She shook her head, an old hurt in her chest resurfacing. “Kendra. She… Well, we didn’t get along at first but she was my sister. And then Spike’s ex killed her.”

Sam’s eyebrows went up. “Yeah, I have questions about that too.”

“It’s a long story. But Kendra died, Faith was called…and then Faith went bad for a while. Like, really bad. But she…got better. Spent some time in prison until a crisis involving my ex forced her hand and she had to bust out to help.” Buffy shrugged like it was nothing, even though it wasn’t. “Angel, my ex…has trouble holding onto his soul. The first time he turned was when Kendra died. The second time was when I died. And the third time was when Faith died. But like me, only for a minute. But that was long enough to call Rosalie.”

Sam nodded. “And Faith dying again… We don’t have to worry about another slayer being called?”

Buffy shook her head. “The active line is through Rosalie. If I dusted right now, the status quo would be back to where the Watchers intended it.” She paused. “Have you seen Dawn? I need to…talk to her.”

“She and Rosalie went somewhere, I think. Rosalie said something about needing to make a phone call.”

“A phone call they…left the premises for?”

“I dunno. I just sat here.” Sam was quiet a moment, then, “She was really worried, you know. About coming back here.”

“You…know my sister well then?”

Sam shrugged. “No. Hardly at all, actually. But she knew you wouldn’t be happy about everything. Said that you just wanted her to have a normal life.”

Buffy drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Like that makes me such a horrible big sister. She’s been lying to me for… I don’t even know if I want to know how long. Taking the money Giles sends her to… _hunt_? She could’ve been killed.”

“Yeah, I know.” A pause. “I think… Look, I’m not going to get between you and being mad at your sister.”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “But…”

“But I…think I can kind of get it. Both you wanting her to have a normal life and her inability to have a normal life.” Sam ran his hands through his truly too-fabulous hair, then down over his scruffy jaw. “My mom was killed by a demon when I was a baby. That is the defining moment of my childhood. It got my dad hunting, Dean with him. And I was so little I was just kind of…dragged along with them. The road was our home. I started hunting when I got to be old enough, but the second college— _emancipation_ —became an option for me, I took it. I wanted a _normal life_.”

Buffy pressed her lips together. “Didn’t take, huh?”

“No, it did…for a while. Then Dad went missing and Dean needed help finding him. And I was only coming back to do that—find Dad.” Sam shook his head. “It’s been years now. We found him, alive, though he’s not alive anymore. And… I honestly don’t know if normal was ever an option for me. Maybe for the reason Dawn gave me earlier—that you can’t just stop knowing this stuff because you want to. And when you know what other people don’t know, it’s hard to not…want to help.” Another pause. “She said that you wanted to be normal too, when you were younger.”

“Boy howdy.”

“But there were chances for you. When Kendra was called, then Faith. You didn’t take those outs.”

“No. And when Giles pulled the Cruciamentum on me, I wigged massively.”

“The what?”

She waved a hand. “The reason I quit the Council. If slayers reach eighteen, their watchers are supposed to dose them with a drug that essentially makes us human-strong, then lock us up with a vampire to see if we can survive without our strength.”

“That’s…barbaric.”

“That’s putting it mildly. And yeah, when it happened to me, I…didn’t handle it well. Even though it was essentially my way to normal. Something I lost after I was turned because, hey, vampire.”

“Right…but you still fight. You still…want to save the world.”

“I can’t not do that.”

“And that’s what I’m saying. After a point, I couldn’t either. Neither could Dawn. We both had a choice and we made it. You had a choice, too.”

Buffy nodded. “And I think I could’ve understood that…had Dawn not lied to me, told me she was doing well in school, sent us phony report cards, and generally shut us out of her life.”

“I think…I think she felt shut out of yours, too. Since you wanted normal so bad for her and you couldn’t be normal.”

“Just how well do you know my sister?”

Sam went a little pink. “We talked on the drive back. That’s all.”

“You’re being very Mr. Devil’s Advocate for someone you just talked to once.”

“I think I just…get it. Her, I mean. What she said made sense to me.”

Before Buffy could say anything else, the door opened and Rosalie and Dawn stepped in, followed closely on the heels by Hunter.

Dawn stopped short when she saw Buffy sitting at the table. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She nodded toward. “Anything going bump in the…day?”

“No. Hunter and Rosalie had an idea about possibly setting up a sanctuary bar, like Caritas. I was just helping them scope out locations.”

“I called Lorne,” Rosalie said. “And my dad. Lorne’s going to come in to sit down with Nick and…go over everything Caritas.”

“Caritas?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Explanations later,” Rosalie said, waving him off. “Nick, ahh, got a call from some guy named Travers.”

Buffy went rigid, her wide eyes shooting to Dawn.

“I…guess that’s a bad thing?” Sam ventured.

“Quentin Travers is one of the directors of the Watchers Council and all around jack-off,” Buffy said, clenching her fist tight. Damn, she needed something to slay, right the hell now. “He’s a rules whore. He fired Giles for having a _fatherly love_ for me following the Cruciamentum.”

“That thing where…your powers went kaput that you were just talking about.”

Buffy nodded savagely. “Yeah.”

“That’s not all,” Rosalie said, and looked to Nick, who was about as pale as Buffy had ever seen him.

Nick cleared his throat. “Apparently, Mr. Travers will be traveling with an Arthur Ketch from the British Men of Letters.”

“We were kinda hoping you’d know what that’d mean?” Rosalie offered.

Buffy did not like the look on Sam’s face. “So…British Men of Letters…?”

Sam didn’t say anything at first, just shook his head. Then, “Damn, Dean is going to be pissed.”


	34. Chapter 34

They had managed to get Wesley to his old room without much fuss after Hermione waved her wand and said a bunch of things that Zack supposed were spells. By the time Wesley had retired, the sun was up and Hermione, Harry, and Ron all collectively looked dead on their feet. Which Zack would have to feel bad about later, because right now they had bigger problems.

Willow at least seemed a bit more rested and…happy? Was that what that was? Zack didn’t know and he didn’t have time to ask. They had decisions to make.

“His memory has definitely been modified,” Hermione said. “But whoever did it was…very patchy. There are bits and pieces there that… It’s just a very poor job.”

“And he has no idea about Rosalie and Faith?” Zack asked, crossing his arms.

“He knows Faith died. He knows Rosalie’s the Slayer. He doesn’t know much else.” Hermione paused, blinking her tired eyes. “He also knows Fred died and that you were who killed her. But he has no recollection of selling you out to Wolfram and Hart. From what I can tell, he believes…he forgave you because of the extenuating circumstances, and that you’ve been friends ever since.”

Zack’s head began to pound. “This makes the sort of sense that doesn’t.”

“Never mind that,” Ron muttered. “That big Wright bloke’s going to lose his bloody marbles if he sees the man who nearly killed his daughter is here.”

“We’re going to have to talk with him,” Willow said, rubbing her eyes. She glanced at Zack. “You should be part of that conversation. While the Ministry is watching us—or MACUSA or whatever… Wright’s memory is supposed to have been modified, so he wouldn’t be mad at Wesley.”

Zack snorted. “Yeah. That’s an easy sell.”

“Well, it has to be, Zack. To keep Rosalie safe—to keep everyone safe, including your kids and baby Kelly. If Wright doesn’t act the part, he’s going to endanger a lot of people. He has to keep up appearances.” Willow motioned between her, Hermione, and Harry. “At least until we know that they’re not watching us anymore.”

“And how long do you think that will take?”

“I have no clue.” Willow released a long breath. “I know it’ll be hard, but he’s your brother. You have to talk to him.”

“Okay, now it sounds like I’m the _only_ one talking to him. Just a minute ago I was _part of the conversation_.”

Willow made a face. “Wright scares me?”

“Bloody hell,” Ron said, looking genuinely worried. “He does?”

“We’ll all talk with him,” Harry reasoned. “Just wish I could get more than a few winks of sleep here. My brain is starting to go all fuzzy.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” said a new voice from the entry way.

Zack turned, thinking _good god what now_ , and was pleasantly surprised to be met by a knockout redhead who only had eyes for Harry. Behind her was a tall, lanky guy, also a redhead, who looked like he needed to get his pompous nose broken just once.

“As long as it’s been, love, I’d hoped to at least get a proper welcome before you zonked out on me,” the redhead said with a grin.

Harry visibly relaxed, a dopey smile crossing his face. “Ginny.”

The two started for each other at the same moment and met with an enthusiastic kiss that, after a few seconds, became downright indecent.

“Bloody hell,” Ron groused. “I don’t need to see that.”

“Seeing it is better than listening to the rather extensive list of things she planned on doing to him once she arrived,” said Mr. Pompous before turning his gaze onto Zack and Willow. “Percy Weasley, Junior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic. I understand you’re having some trouble here.”

*~*~*

There was a small part of Zack that wanted to go back to being a social pariah. Obviously he was happy with the fact he’d finally repaired his marriage and seemed universally forgiven from his soulless murder party last year. Still, he really thought that if he hadn’t sacrificed himself for baby K, Willow would have handled this herself.

Whatever. Not like killing a baby was worth avoiding his half brother.

Though as he made his way up to Wright’s bedroom he had to realize the two weren’t exactly close. Sure they had bonded over the whole evil father ordeal, but it wasn’t like they had sat down and chatted about the childhoods. Generally Spike had served as a comfortable buffer between them whenever they’d actually interacted. Which had been pretty infrequent considering he’d spent most of the last year avoiding Wes and the Hyperion.

Zack released a sigh as he looked at the closed door. He really missed Spike. Not just because he would be way better at delivering this message, but also because he really hadn’t existed much of the last decade without the platinum smartass acting as the Batman to his Robin. With Mr. and Mrs. Buffy Summers in Kansas for the foreseeable future, Zack was going to be starting a new life chapter with more than one set of changes.

With resignation, Zack rapped his knuckles on the wood.

“No,” he heard Cordelia answer through the door.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” Zack responded.

The door flew open. Wright was holding his shirt in his hand, but had thankfully put on some pants. “Is there actually food? I’m fucking starving.”

Zack frowned. “Total lie. Though I’m guessing Hermione could whip some shit up pretty fast.”

“Oh!” Cordy said, walking up behind her husband. “I could go for an omelet. One of those spinach and mushroom ones. With some toast.”

Wright gave her a smirk. “But don’t be demanding or anything.”

“They’re getting free room and board. I could always demand money instead.”

Wright leaned over and pecked her lips. “And that’s why I married you.”

Zack cleared his throat, earning to pairs of eyes looking his direction. “So, hope you all slept well. Knowing your daughters and perfectly safe and no harm befell them.”

Wright’s eyes darkened immediately. “What?”

Zack gave his brother a shrug. “You know, I just thought maybe some sleep and everything may have given you some perspective. Maybe made you a little more…even-tempered.”

His brother arched his brows. “Yeah, what the fuck is going on now?”

With a sigh of defeat, Zack explained. “Someone wiped Wes’s memory. It was a patch job at best. He knows Faith is dead, but doesn’t remember the bracelet or the deal with W.H. He somehow miraculously forgave me and thinks we’re friends. Oh, and he’s in his room sleeping like everything’s fine.”

Zack saw the emotions all play through his brother’s eyes. The confusion followed by shock followed by pain followed by anger. The blind rage was the last look he saw before Wright took off in a mad dash down the hall, tossing his shirt to the ground as he ran toward Wes’s room.

Zack didn’t have time to think. Catching him in a couple paces, he grabbed Wright and spun him against the wall, pinning him by the shoulders.

“Don’t fucking try, Morris,” he snarled.

“You gotta stop, Zack. Trust me.” He presses his brother harder against the wall when he started struggling in earnest.

“I’ll fucking stake you!” Wright growled. “Don’t fucking think I won’t.”

Sadness washed over him as he watched his brother try to overtake him. While he understood how badly he wanted to get justice for the danger his girls had been subjected to by his own best friend, he also knew that right now violence wasn’t going to fix any of their problems. Especially Wright’s. “No, you won’t. And you can’t hurt him now.”

“Wanna fucking watch me?” Wright kicked him hard in the shin. Even without shoes, it was enough to make Zack loosen his grip and let his brother wiggle to freedom.

Wright made it within ten feet of the door before Zack could launch in the air and tackle him to the ground. A well aimed punch to the chin made Zack’s game face bust out on instinct. Somehow that was what it took for Wright to finally take pause.

Staring up at him from where he was now pinned to the ground, Wright’s voice cracked when he spoke. “My daughters. He fucking came for my daughters.”

“I know,” Zack said as he felt his face shift back to normal. “And I’m not saying to forgive the bastard, but you’ve got to fucking wait until we know what we’re up against. Hell, we don’t know if it was that witch or if there’s someone else after us now.”

He felt the last of the fight leave his brother’s body. “Yeah,” he said curtly.

“Yeah,” Zack said much softer as he stood up and held out his hand.

“I’m still fucking killing him,” Wright said as he took the lift up off the floor, giving Zack a cold look of determination as they stood eye to eye.

“I know,” Zack said without batting an eye. “And when the time’s right, I won’t stop you.”

*~*~*

Rosalie didn’t like group meetings. Unless there was food. Family dinners were the best kind of group meetings, whether it was sitting around the Hyperion or taking up a section in a restaurant. Those kind of gatherings were some of her fondest memories.

As everyone gathered around the weird map table in the bunker, she was sure there were no fond memories about to be made.

“You’re fucking shitting me!” Dean bellowed when Sam repeated the message Nick had received. “He was fucking dead!” He whirled around to point at Mary. “You killed him!”

“I know,” Mary responded. “I was there.”

“Then how the fuck?”

“Pretty sure we’re all about to find out,” Dawn responded.

“Yeah,” Buffy replied lowly. “Because if he’s half as awful as Travers, the first thing he’ll do is gloat.”

Dean turned his hysteria toward Nick. “And what the actual fuck with you? You’re a fucking British Men of Letters too? Because news flash, we fucking killed the last batch that came over here and tried to hunt us down!”

“Well, except that one that didn’t take,” Spike interjected.

“Not helping,” Buffy snapped.

While Spike shrugged, Nick took a step forward, still holding Rosalie’s hand with a death grip. “I am _not_ a Men of Letters. Truth be told, I know very little about their operations. They were founded as a research group for the Watchers Council. While our focus was solely on protecting the Chosen, they had a broader scope of investigating the paranormal. We would take their findings and apply them to serving slayers when need be.”

“Yeah? Well your book club decided to come over here and try and make us their bitches. They shot Sammy just to say hello. Then, when we decided we didn’t like their methods, they started a plan to kill every American hunter. Now you’re inviting them over hang out with your girlfriend?”

Buffy spoke up. “Look, I told the Council where to stick their stakes. Rosie can do the exact same thing. If either of these dickturds decide to step out of line, there’s a whole room full of people ready to rip their throats out.”

“Fuck, you make me hard when you talk like that, Slayer.”

Rosalie made a point of not looking in her uncle’s direction. “Nick told them who was all here. Won’t they have a plan?”

Nick nodded his head. “I don’t know this Ketch bloke, but Quentin Travers is nothing but calculating.”

“Oh, I’ll handle Travers,” Buffy warned.

“Good,” Nick replied. “Because he hates me. Pretty sure he’d bring back executions just for spite.”

“Well,” Sam said slowly. “This sounds like fun.”

*~*~*

“I can’t tell if I’m excited to be leaving or terrified,” Willow said as she trudged downstairs, baby Oz in her arms and Sam at her side. “Have you talked to Josh yet?”

Sam went a bit pale and shook his head. “No. And I don’t know what to say, either. We don’t know exactly how much Josh is inside…Josh.” He was quiet a moment. “I think it might be more than we thought, Will. I talk to him and I can hear him in everything he says. It doesn’t seem like something he’d have to be bewitched to think.”

Willow pulled her lower lip between her teeth and looked back at Donna, who was on their heels. “What about you?”

“I’m scared out of my mind that it is him,” Donna replied. “I haven’t…been able to make myself go see him. I don’t want to be right.”

“It’s pretty likely that he did have some help, regardless,” Willow said. She would never pretend she knew Josh as well as the other two, but she still resisted the notion that he could have been so completely, well, underhanded as to do everything he’d done since she’d discovered her pregnancy. But she also knew Josh was ambitious and suffered from tunnel-vision; if he thought he was in the right, he could convince himself of just about anything.

She paused and turned fully.

“Whatever Josh did or didn’t do, whether he was under the influence or not, I believe completely that he believed he was in the right. I don’t think he had…malicious intent.”

Sam favored her with a soft, sad smile. “I know…but that almost makes it worse. If someone is going to do something terrible to me, I’d rather it be because they hate me. Josh tried to keep you out of my life. That was not his call to make.”

“But he _did_ try to make it better once he learned about Oz. He did that.”

Sam sighed, nodding. “Yeah, he did. But I’m not sure that’s enough to make a difference.”

Willow was quiet for a moment, then decided to let the matter go. Ultimately, it wasn’t up to her to forgive Josh. Or just up to her, at least. She’d come to terms with what he’d done to her a while ago, whether or not he was under the magical influence. Sam and Donna had to arrive at their own conclusions.

When they got to the lobby, they found most everyone had already convened and they were the last to the party.

She glanced to Zack, who stood beside his wife. “How’d it go?”

“You mean how you left me to tell my homicidal brother that the guy who nearly got both his daughters killed is sleeping it off upstairs?” Zack pointed to the fading bruise on his chin. “About as well as you’d expect.”

Wright snickered. Willow jumped, having not realized he and Cordy were in vicinity. “I’m the homicidal brother?” he drawled. “Really?”

Zack nodded a bit sheepishly. “Touché.”

“Once this little magical mystery is solved, I’m putting him in the fucking ground, though.” Wright glared around the room. “Anyone here got a problem with that?”

Willow glanced to Hermione, who looked like she did indeed have a problem with it, but she at least had the sense not to say something. At least not now. Depending on how long their alliance ran, Willow guessed that Wright could expect a fair amount of opinions on the subject.

“Where is Wes now?” she asked. “Still sleeping?”

“We put the _Muffliato_ charm on his room,” Harry said. “And yes, bloke looked like he’d been out to all hours.”

“We have rented out flats here in the city,” Hermione said, apparently very keen on getting off the subject of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and whatever his fate might be. “It appears that this is the capitol of MACUSA’s California division. Since they make no effort to interact with the Muggle government, I suppose that makes sense. Percy has an appointment with someone named Toadmore tomorrow. And we think it might behoove our standing here to set up a meeting ourselves. Willow, you too.”

Willow went tense, tightening her arms around her child. “Me? But I’m an abomination, according to them.”

“Yes, well, it might be easier to determine just how large a threat they are if we appear to cooperate. We’ll call it a good faith meeting.”

Sam cleared his throat and touched her arm. “I guess this means you’re staying in Los Angeles.” When the others looked at him, he clarified, “We’d talked about our…future. My immediate future is in Sacramento, at least until my term is over. We were going to try and make it work.”

Hermione offered a wide smile. “Oh, brilliant. I’m so happy for you two.” The smile faded a bit. “And this actually might be for the better in the long run. If Willow can gain the confidence of the government, she can broach the subject of incorporating you into her world. I’m still not sure how that’s done over here, but it seems a start.”

A pause. “I’ve decided not to run for president. At least not now. Maybe not ever. It’s too dangerous.” Sam ran a hand over his son’s head. “So maybe that will help…bridge me into their world a bit more. And it should keep Wolfram and Hart from getting whatever it was they wanted from me.”

No one had anything to say to that, though it was possible no one truly knew how large a concession this was for Sam. Or perhaps they thought him naïve to think this was the end of his interaction with Wolfram and Hart. Willow didn’t have the heart to tell him how unlikely it was that the evil law firm was out of their lives just because he’d put his political ambitions on hold. That was a bridge they could cross when it was on their horizon.

Hermione turned back to Zack. “I heard from Professor McGonagall regarding what happened a few years ago, and a definitive answer about the rings.”

Zack went ramrod straight. So did Kelly. Willow glanced to their hands and saw neither was wearing their ring still, even though she and Hermione had both run every magical test they could think of to ensure their safety. That Hermione looked nervous didn’t bode well for whatever came next.

“You were not at Hogwarts,” Hermione said. “That’s for starters. It was a castle, though, a large one. Property records indicate that it belongs to Wolfram and Hart.”

Kelly inhaled sharply. Zack took her hand and squeezed.

“The night the lot of you refuse to discuss played a large role in that,” Hermione went on. “Wolfram and Hart had never attempted to cast magic that potent on such a large scale before. We’re still not entirely sure what happed _that_ night—”

“No one is,” Zack muttered.

“—but by all intents and purposes, there was a prophecy in the Department of Mysteries indicating the threat you would be if left untended. A prophecy that was stolen the night before _that_ night, when it was clear that you and Buffy Summers were about to cross paths. Wolfram and Hart seized opportunity to do whatever they could to eliminate you, all of you, that night. As I understand it, you had a friend who was running for Congress?”

“Screech,” Kelly said, nodding. “Err, Samuel Powers.”

Hermione nodded. “As I understand it, even if you had never met Buffy or Spike or any of the others that night, the consequences of Mr. Powers’s inevitable election would have, down the road, put you in contact. Wolfram and Hart attempted to end your lives earlier that evening by employing Dr. Hannibal Lecter, who had been a pawn of theirs for some time. But they didn’t account for his…unpredictability, and, well…you know what happened.”

Zack and Kelly looked to each other and shook their heads at the same time.

“Like they said,” Willow added when Hermione frowned, “no one really knows what happened that night. I was there. Sam was, too. And Josh and Donna. But if you tried to get us to give you an account of what happened, you’d have different stories.”

Hermione nodded again, seeming to regain her footing. “Well, from what Professor McGonagall told me, even with your minds altered and circumstances outside of your control, you proved rather formidable and were able to put a stop to whatever it was Wolfram and Hart had planned. This made them aware of the risk of allowing you to continue to interact. Killing you wasn’t an option, because death has a way of cementing relationships rather than breaking them. They wanted you to turn on each other. That was the purpose of the so-called Hogwarts visit.” She paused. “Apparently, you believed…”

Zack closed his eyes, sighing. “There was some utter ridiculousness with me and Buffy. Somehow we got it in our heads that Spike was William’s father or something stupid like that.”

“That would have been the magical influence. From what we’ve been able to gleam, appealing to Spike’s demonic nature seemed to be their first and best plan.” She paused. “Since he and Buffy are mated, they wanted her rejection of him as a mate to drive him insane so that he would either kill you himself—which _would_ break the power behind your friendship, and forever damage his bond with Buffy—or, their preferred plan, to kill Rosie.”

Kelly released a strangled cry. “He almost did,” she said. “He was about to, but she got through to him. And then he became human.”

“Well, he didn’t,” Hermione said. “That was the magical influence. He—all of you were put under that spell. When he failed to kill Rosie, Wolfram and Hart began playing with a variety of alternative scenarios. That was one of them. Again, they were underestimating the bond.” Hermione shifted her weight between her feet, then glanced at Willow. “About Oz, Willow…”

Willow tightened her hold on the baby in her arms.

“He is…alive and well. In Tibet. Our sources indicate that he hasn’t been in the States since 1999.”

Willow felt the bottom drop out under her, so much so she had to look down to make sure she was still holding onto her child. That didn’t make sense—none of this did. Yet she knew, from the look on Hermione’s face, that it was the truth. If there was one thing Hermione Granger-Weasley wasn’t, it was cruel.

Still, those words were a physical blow. _“What?”_

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip. “Apparently, you had a mental breakdown after someone called Tara Maclay was injured during a fight with someone else called Glory. The Ministry has excellent records on this, because it occurred in England, shortly following Buffy’s siring. Glory became convinced that Tara was something called the Key. She followed you to Europe and, when she discovered Tara was indeed a human witch and nothing more—”

“Her mind,” Willow whispered, knowing she was right but not knowing how she knew. There was a wall in her mind, one that hurt to approach, much less push against. One that had been there all along, she realized, but she’d become so adept at ignoring it that she hadn’t given it any attention whatsoever over the years. It was just a part of her.

Hermione gave her a moment before continuing, her voice shaking but controlled, in a way that was thoroughly Hermione. “Buffy and Spike, along with Mr. Wright, Cordelia, Angel, and Mr. Gunn hurried to London afterward as Glory was becoming more…unhinged. She had a limited time in which she could use the Key and it was running out on her. Glory was sharing a host body with a human brother who occasionally assumed control of the body. Anyone who witnessed the transformation would immediately forget about it—some very powerful enchantment there. Except the enchantment didn’t work on vampires—Spike, Buffy, and Angel all witnessed the transformation and tried to tell you. You became convinced that Ben, Glory’s brother, had something to do with Tara’s condition and killed him. This killed Glory…but it also took away any hope that Tara would ever recover.”

Tears were skating down Willow’s cheeks, the wound she had so often revisited, wondering if it was real, ripped open as though it had happened yesterday. She thrust her son into Sam’s arms without looking at him, not trusting herself to keep the child steady. “I…I don’t remember any of this.”

Hermione nodded somberly. “I know.”

“Wolfram and Hart—they took my memories then?”

“No.” A beat. “You attempted to finish what Glory had started. Your friend, Xander Harris, was able to prevent this from happening by means we’re—”

“The yellow crayon speech,” Willow said, shaking her head. “Oh god.”

“And after you returned to yourself, you set out to cure Tara, but Tara’s condition is irreversible. She’s alive and being cared for at St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, but she has never recovered. Since you blamed yourself for her condition, for killing Glory, you decided to erase yourself from the narrative and reconstruct one where you believed you were still in a relationship with Oz. Not just you, but everyone who knew Tara. But your love for Tara was strong—too strong to remain buried, which was why you began to…remember her. Wolfram and Hart’s later interference with your mind is also likely responsible for unearthing some of those memories.”

There was nothing for a long moment. No one seemed to know what to say.

“Why?” Sam demanded, and Willow was startled to hear his voice shaking. “Why would she _ever_ need to know that? Why would you tell her that? I thought you were her friend, Hermione.”

“I am her friend,” Hermione spat with more force and passion than Willow had ever heard from her. She looked up and saw tears swimming in her friend’s eyes. “Do you think I wanted to tell her this?”

“Then why did you?” Sam screamed. “Why would you—”

“Because the spell Willow cast on herself and her friends to forget what happened to Tara Maclay was the blueprint used by Wolfram and Hart to cast the spell that would one day affect you!” Hermione all but roared. “Willow was unstable and volatile and the spell-work was sloppy. It compromised not only her mental integrity, but that of her friends’ as well. And it left such a powerful magical signature that both the Ministry of Magic and Wolfram and Hart became aware of it—her. Wolfram and Hart managed to reverse-engineer the spell over the years, perfect it, and then use it on half the people standing in this room. That’s the other part of what the trip to fake Hogwarts was—an experiment to see how far reality could bend, what they could make you believe.” Hermione turned to Zack and Kelly. “The rings weren’t from Dumbledore, obviously, but part of what you were told then was the truth. They were fashioned from the same magic enshrined in something called the Gem of Amara, which itself is very old magic and, in the wrong hands, quite dark. After the Ministry caught wind of what was happening, a team of Aurors recovered you from the castle. You spent the next several weeks in St. Mungos Hospital where the magical damage done to your minds was undone…but the memories themselves couldn’t be restored without causing severe psychological trauma. The rings were given to you then—you believed by Dumbledore because that fit the narrative you had been influenced to believe—enhanced with properties that would not only make you immune to the regular methods that are fatal to vampires, but also to any more magical interference with your minds. Professor McGonagall suspects, and I agree, that this had the unintentional side-effect of beginning to restore certain memories. It might be what brought Spike and Buffy back to Los Angeles—some part of them knew they had something here.”

Hermione was still for a long moment, composed but shaking. At length, she raised her gaze to Sam. “I had to tell her because Willow’s spell is somewhat the cause for…everything that came after. It’s also why she was at Hogwarts. It was the safest place for her—a deal struck between the Prime Minister and the Minister of Magic to ensure the threat she posed to both Muggle and Magical populations was contained. It’s also why…” She let out a deep breath. “Why the Ministry won’t allow you back, Willow. They were happy to let you teach, but coming here, the involvement with Wolfram and Hart… The country was nearly wiped out the last time. They won’t let that happen again.”

It was too much. All too much. The noise in her head had reached its peak and she could take no more.

Willow turned and, without meeting anyone’s eyes, walked toward the basement door.

“Willow!” Sam called after her, his voice raw and desperate.

“Leave her be, mate,” Ron said. “This is something you can’t fix.”

Somehow, Willow made it to the other side of the door before the screaming thing inside her could claw its way to freedom.


	35. Chapter 35

Buffy knew she didn’t like Quentin Travers, but she’d forgotten just how much she hated the asshole until he stepped inside the bunker. The smug, superior smirk on his face, the arrogant way he carried himself, and how he appraised the Slayer like other people might a shiny sports car. An expensive toy built for serving at his pleasure.

She didn’t realize she was growling until Spike chuckled and pinched her ass.

“Better watch it, love,” he murmured. “Demon’s peeking out.”

Buffy curled her hand into a fist. “You need to keep me from killing him if this goes sideways.”

“Not in my wirin’, that.”

“If you love me, you’ll keep me from doing something I regret.” She turned and met his eyes. “I’m serious, Spike. This might go really bad.”

She saw he understood that—or that it would be bad for her, even if he couldn’t appreciate how. One of the many small things he did to fit into her world, in her life. She never wanted to stop noticing them because they truly were a marvel. And she was so used to them that it was sometimes easy to forget all he’d done to curb his nature. For her.

The man at Travers’s side was younger than she’d expected and reminded her, in a weird way, of Wesley the first time they’d met. Though bulkier, this guy had that same self-important air about him. She could see why Dean hated him.

“You son of a bitch,” Dean said by way of greeting, fighting his way around Sam and Castiel, who were attempting to hold him back. “You gotta lot of fuckin’ nerve coming here.”

Quentin smiled his haughty smile and nodded at the man at this side. “I see you weren’t exaggerating.”

“Not at all, I’m afraid,” the man replied, then turned his attention to Mary Winchester and smiled. “Hello, Mary.”

Mary narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

“You would be wise to not speak to Mary,” Castiel said, “if you wish to leave here alive.”

Travers just chuckled. “The famous Winchesters. I am pleased to finally meet you, though I do wish it were under different circumstances.”

“Blow it out your ass, Grandpa,” Dean spat. “Sammy, let me go!”

“We’re not doing this now,” Sam replied. “Not until we learn why they’re here.”

Dean didn’t take his glare off the man who’d smiled at Mary. “Thought the kid was getting a new Mr. Miyagi. I don’t see a third.”

“We are here to discuss Rosalie’s future, yes,” the man replied. “We needn’t let our history play a role.”

“How about the fact that you’re supposed to be a fucking corpse, then, huh?”

The man rolled his eyes. “I am standing in a room with Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, William the Bloody, and Buffy Summers, and you ask me how _I_ am back from the dead? Truly?”

Buffy arched an eyebrow. “What? You guys have died, too? Is that a thing normal people do these days?”

“Ain’t exactly normal, hot stuff,” Dean replied without taking his glare off the man.

Spike growled, which drew Travers’s attention. The head of the Watchers Counsel turned to Buffy fully and looked her up and down—not in a leering way, but somehow still making her feel more exposed than she had strung up in the bowels of Wolfram and Hart.

“Ms. Summers. See you’re still consorting with the undead.”

“Travers,” she replied. “See you’re still a pompous blowhole.”

“You always did have the most colorful way with words,” he replied, shifting his attention to Spike. “Though you had your uses. Tamed William the Bloody quite well.”

“Better watch it, mate,” Spike said, the menace in his voice unmistakable. “Slayer’s hold on my leash might slip. Been a minute, but I reckon Watcher guts still wash up just as well as demon.”

“Charming.” Quentin continued his perusal, and blinked with what might have been genuine surprise when his gaze landed on Dawn. “And the younger Ms. Summers. Here I thought you were away at school.”

Dawn, who was standing near Hunter and Rosalie, stiffened and tossed Buffy a panicked look.

“Any reason you’ve been keeping up on my sister?” Buffy demanded.

“You might find this difficult to believe, but the Watchers Council finds it prudent to keep watch over any being whose very existence could one day rip this world apart.”

At this, Sam, Dean, Mary, Hunter, Rosalie, and Castiel all twisted their necks to look at Dawn.

Dawn edged a step back, smiling nervously. “Did—ahh—I not mention that earlier?”

“Think you might’ve left it out,” Sam replied, somewhat hoarse.

“What the fuck kinda family are you?” Dean whispered, his gaze darting between her and Buffy.

“The kind that will kick every inch of your frail human ass if you look at her or me like that again,” Buffy replied sweetly. “Dawn is safe. That’s all you need to worry about.”

“This guy just said she could trigger the apocalypse, something that happens a helluva lot around us, so no. I think I got more to worry about.”

“It’s your luck that apocalypses are a thing I’m pretty good at stopping. This is a nonissue.”

“Join the club. You have any idea how many times I’ve died saving this pissant world? ‘Cause I don’t. Stopped counting a long time ago.”

A laugh burst from Buffy’s lips. “Then you must not be very good at it.”

“Why, you—”

Spike snarled and pushed forward at the same moment Sam, apparently realizing that things had spiraled out of control, skidded his way in front of his suicidal brother, his arms outstretched.

“Guys, stop,” he said. “We don’t have a fight with each other. We’re on the same side.” He looked at Buffy, then met Spike’s angry, yellow eyes. “We do save the world. And I get that we’re not alone in that.” He turned to address his brother over his shoulder. “If Buffy says Dawn is safe, then Dawn’s safe. She’s the Slayer. She ought to know.”

“No,” Travers said, drawing their attention back to him. “Buffy is not the Slayer. She hasn’t been for many, many years now.” He looked at last to Rosalie. “The Council has had a few patchy years with our vampire slayers. Ms. Summers here was never too respectful of the rules. As a result, she is a vampire today.”

“Yeah,” Buffy snapped. “Real responsible for my own abduction, torture, rape and murder.”

“You are,” Travers replied impassively. “These are the consequences of fraternizing with your prey.”

Buffy didn’t realize she was racing toward the Watcher until Spike’s arms closed around her middle and he hauled her against him, snarling himself but doing what he’d promised to do. But being that he had his arms full of Buffy, he didn’t have much chance of stopping Dawn, who threw such a mean right hook that Buffy’s outrage faded almost instantly in favor of pride.

“Hell yeah!” Dean screamed, and—in a burst of motion—tore free of Sam and leaped toward Travers’s traveling companion. “I’m getting the _hell_ in on this.”

“Oh no,” Buffy heard Rosalie whimper before she, too, threw herself into the fight.

Seemed this visit wasn’t going to be so diplomatic after all.

*~*~*

“They told you, didn’t they?”

Willow heard the voice as if it were calling from a distance rather than just a few feet away from her. She kept her gaze on the floor for a long moment before dragging her eyes up to meet Josh’s. A shuddering breath rushed through her lips.

“About England,” Josh said, his eyes oddly sympathetic for someone who hated her as much as he had to. As much as she hated herself at the moment—a hatred unlike any kind she’d ever felt before. Raw and intense, so much so it might suffocate her. And she sort of wished it would.

“You knew,” Willow said after a moment. Her voice was scratchy. Had she been crying? She didn’t remember—didn’t even much remember coming down here.

“Yeah. I knew.”

“How long?”

Josh released a hard breath, glanced at the floor, then up again. “Since we got back to DC the last time, after you were pregnant. Started digging and that’s how they found me, Wolfram and Hart. They filled in the rest.”

“You didn’t tell me. Or Sam.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because…what’s the point, Will? It was made clear you didn’t remember any of it, so I’d just be this jackass telling you about the time you nearly wiped out a continent and then got magic-happy with your own mind, but there’s no proof and how the hell was I supposed to know?” Josh blew out a deep breath, squatting on his legs. “I wasn’t even sure how much I believed it. I mean, I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t seen you go all black-eyed mambo myself, but what they told me was…beyond scary. And I had to protect Sam.” He barked a hard laugh, dragging his forearm under his eyes. “And Donna. And the whole damn country. Wolfram and Hart said they could do that.”

“They’re evil, Josh. Whatever else they tell you, they’re evil.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that when they wanted to kill a teenage girl for no reason and used a baby as collateral.” He straightened again to full height. “But at the time? They got one hell of a sale’s pitch. Fixing all the things that needed fixing after your mojo went all wonky. Keeping the supernatural community in line, cleaning up messes…” He released a deep breath. “I know what they are now. I didn’t then. And by the time I did, it was pick the devil you know or the devil you don’t. These aren’t the kind of people you just walk away from, but I truly believed that they were the way to keep the people I love safe.”

Willow nodded, hugging herself. “And now?”

“Now?” Josh blew out another breath. “I got nothin’.”

Such a familiar phrase. Willow pressed her eyes shut, fighting back the sob climbing for freedom, but knowing it was no use.

The bad kept coming because _she_ was the bad. She was. And she always had been.

And now, nothing was precisely what she had left.

*~*~*

Kelly was too lost in the violent swirls of memories crashing through her mind. It was as though she was in the middle of a hurricane, blinding rain and wind throwing one vision into another, distorting then all and making it impossible to tell reality from fantasy.

Slowly the storm died away, leaving the twisted wreckage of her mind looking at discarded pieces of a life she had thought she had lived.

Zack squeezed her hand and she flew back to the present, her brain all too eager to escape its confines.

“We must call Buffy,” Giles said absently, sounding as shook as Kelly felt.

“How do we explain it?” Cordelia asked in a small voice. “I still don’t think I understood all of that.”

“Wolfram and Hart,” Wright said darkly. “This all goes back to them.”

“But who are the bad guys now?” Zack questioned.

“Fuck you!” Sam snapped, his voice cracking and his body shaking as he held his son against his chest. “If you’re trying to blame _Willow_ for any—”

“Dude!” Zack said holding up his free hand. “I’m not blaming her for anything! I’m saying that there are no bad guys here. Wes? Josh? We’re all the fucking _victims_. What they did to me? To Spike? To Wes? To Josh? To Willow? They fucking used us!”

Wright shook his head. “No. You lost your soul. Wes dug his grave all on his own.”

Gunn took a step forward. “Man, I get it. But Fred was his whole world, Z. Fuck, she was all our worlds. And Nikki? I fucking loved her. Like really loved her. But I was too stupid to realize it until it was too late.” He gave a weary look in Zack’s direction. “And yeah. It was hard to forgive the hands that did it, but he didn’t control his hands. Just like Wes didn’t control his grief. It got manipulated by all those twisted lawyers and wizards and shit.”

Kelly’s instincts reacted before her brain could process the situation. Turning her head, she saw Rosie and William standing atop the stairs, their grandmother standing stoically behind them.

Zack either sensed it too or reacted to her gesture. “No, Mother,” he said with deep resignation. “Let’s not do this now.”

Melody gestured the children to go down the stairs, her eyes remaining on Zack and Kelly. “I’ve told them we’re going to Portland until this all calms down and everything is safe again. The offer stands to Cordy and Zack as well, concerning baby Kelly.”

“No thanks,” Wright said quickly.

“Wait,” Cordelia followed. She looked to Kelly. “You’re actually hiding the kids?” She looked to her husband. “Are you sure we shouldn’t?”

“No.” Both Zacks responded in unison.

Melody flashed a sad smile. “You both remind me so much of your father sometimes.”

“Don’t ever call him my father,” Wright warned. “That was a sperm donor. Nothing else.”

“You just were saying that everyone was merely victims of the same evil.”

“There are certain lines that cannot be crossed,” Giles said firmly. “He wasn’t manipulated by love or grief, Melody. It was greed.”

Wright nodded. “He tried to fucking kill me. He fucking _killed_ my wife and son. He also tried to kill yours. And your grandkids. And our wives. And my daughters. For fucking money and power. So, no. No fucking excuses made here for him. Not now. Not ever.”

Melody shook her head as tears began to strain her cheeks. “He was no more evil than you,” she said to Zack, taking Kelly’s breath away. “You killed and hurt just like those two vampires did the other night. You did it with them. And you could do it again anytime.”

“Melody,” Giles lamented. “Please stop.”

She gave the man a dirty look. “Buffy’s just as dangerous. More actually. But you pretend she’s your good little daughter. She’s not. And if she loses her soul or goes evil, she’ll have an already evil killer backing her up. Plus she’s capable of killing everyone in this room in one fight. But let’s play Uncle Spike and Aunt Buffy. Let’s see how damaged we make the kids before they break. Maybe Wolfram and Hart could use them too.”

Kelly snapped. While Zack had told her about his earlier conversation with his mom, hearing it for herself, in front of her children and after everything that had just been revealed about their pasts was more than she could handle. Breaking away from her husband’s grasp, she marched right up to her mother-in-law. “Rosie and William, go back upstairs now,” she told her children without pulling her eyes off Melody’s nervous face.

“But Nana said we had to go to be safe,” Rosie protested.

“Nana was wrong,” Zack said. “Now listen to your mom. Without the lip, Rose.”

“Come on,” Cordy said breaking ranks to herd the kids toward the stairs. “Let’s go up and get KK dressed. I want an omelet. And to get out of this place for a bit.”

Kelly controlled herself until the children were out of earshot. Then, in one swift moment, she reached up and slapped Melody hard across her cheek.

“Kelly!” Giles chastised.

“Shit just got real,” Lisa murmured to the room.

Melody gave Kelly a wounded look as she reached up to rub her reddened face. “Do you think that helps your argument?”

“That wasn’t my argument. That was for trying to manipulate my children. Next slap is for leaving them at the house when you went to the hospital. And the one after that is for what you said to Zack.”

“Point made, Kel,” Zack said walking over and placing a hand on her arm. Kelly felt her brother-in-law come up and lay a hand on her opposite shoulder.

“I thought you were a better mother than this,” Melody said with a shaky voice.

“I thought you were a wiser woman than this,” Wright quipped.

“I heard the witch. She said that this was all your fault. Wolfram and Hart did all of this because of you.”

“That is definitely _not_ what I said,” Hermione huffed.

“They’re after you guys. Not the kids.”

Wright shook his head. “This ain’t a negotiation, Mel. We’re a family and we’re going to fight this together.”

“They’re my family! The only real family I have left! My husband is dead and my son is too!”

“Wow, Mom,” Zack said in a hollow voice. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m sorry,” she said beginning to cry again. “But after all I’ve seen…they aren’t going to stop until you’re dead. All of you. And the farther Rosie and William are from the evil of them…the evil in you, the better their chances at being normal.”

Kelly wasn’t evil, but she was pissed. Once again she smacked Melody’s face.

“Fuck!” Wright gasped as he grabbed Kelly’s waist and pulled her back a few inches. When she turned her glowing eyes toward him, he released her and took a step back. “Your turn, bro.”

“I can’t slap my mom, Z,” Zack explained. “That’s what my wife is for.”

“Okay,” Harry said stepping forward to try and take control of the situation. “I think we’ve all said enough. Mrs. Morris, if you wish to leave you may do so, but I believe the children are going to remain safe in the protection of this room of witches, wizards, vampires, hunters and good caring people.”

Melody shook her head. “Their blood is on your hands. _All_ of your hands.”

Kelly went to slap her one more time, but Zack anticipated the move and snatched her wrist mere inches before contact. “I’m sorry, Mom. I thought you were stronger.” He looked to Hermione while still holding his wife’s arm in the air. “Can you wipe her before she goes?”

“Seriously?” Giles asked incredulously. “After everything we just learned about altered memories, you want _more_ , Zackary?”

“She’s unsafe. To all of us. If she wants to leave, fine. But she can’t go out there and get picked up by WH or the magic police. And she knows too much about this world to exist outside it. I don’t like it anymore than you.”

“Honestly, I understand,” Hermione said in a soft voice. “I had to make the same choice concerning Voldemort and my own parents.” She looked to Melody as tears began to form in her own eyes. “It won’t hurt. I’ll leave you all the happy memories. You can simply believe your son and family are off living their best life.”

“My son is dead,” Melody sobbed.

“Well…” Hermione choked as Ron came and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist. “We can do that if you wish. Zack and Kelly passed away in an accident several years ago before they had a chance to have children.”

“Are you sure, Herms?” Ginny asked quietly. “There’s a lot of head magic already in play.”

“Do it,” Zack said forcefully before cringing sheepishly. “Please.”

Hermione nodded and looked to her husband. “It would be best to get her away from here first. Since she is going to Portland, perhaps we get her to the airport?”

“Right,” Ron agreed. He looked over to his best mate and sister. “We got this. You lot can help do any further explaining needed.”

“Cheater,” Ginny teased.

“My missus doesn’t hold all the brains,” he said. Looking upon his frowning wife, he amended. “Well, she does, but she lets me have a pass now and again.”

Zack released Kelly and turned away, stalking off to Wright’s office. Melody made her way toward the front door with Ron and Hermione in tow.

The room grew silent once more and again Kelly fell back into the twisted wreckage of her memories.

*~*~*

Gunshots halted all fighting immediately. Mary stood off to the side of the group, still pointing the gun at the cushioned chair in the corner. “Good,” she snapped. “Next move was start on legs.”

“Mary,” a very bloodied Ketch said even as Dean had his hand around his neck.

“Trust me, yours were first,” she responded. “But now that points have been made, maybe we can wrap this up.”

The room quickly divided in two. Travers and Ketch stood on one side of the massive table while everyone else took refuge on the other.

Both members of the British Invasion were bleeding and looking to be dealing with new black eyes. Ketch had successfully landed a few blows because Dean was a little worse for wear. Dawn had taken a few hits as well as Sam, but in the chaos it had quite possibly been friendly fire.

“What are your intentions with our slayer?”

Rosalie looked at Nick, whose lip had been busted in the fray. His hair was disheveled and Rosalie had to admit that the dark look in his eyes kinda turned her on. He had a little badass in him after all.

Rosalie questioned how many of those injuries had come from the Summers ladies and how many her man had made in the fight. Granted knowing her uncle, Spike had punched her boyfriend just for funsies.

“I never liked you,” Travers responded. “When the Council took custody of you from the state, I warned them against it. Our Watchers come from good stock and breeding. A whore’s discarded trash should never have been trained.”

“Hey there, twatwaffle!” Rosalie snapped. “You can take that righteous indignation and shove it up your ass. And anything else you say to Nick will directly impact how much longer I listen to your precious Council.”

Travers scowled, giving Nick one last furious glance before looking fully at Rosalie. “Miss Wright, I fully understand your current situation.”

“I highly doubt that,” Buffy said folding her arms in defiance.

“Unlike most slayers, you were brought up in the world fighting vampires and demons. Even rarer, the Powers gave you Sight long before you were chosen. You possess more power and potential than any slayer ever known to be called.” He looked around the room, daring anyone to contradict his words. When satisfied with the silence, he continued. “Nicholas Hunter was never to be your Watcher. He was merely exploring potential slayers due to the events we saw unfolding in Los Angeles last year. We had suspected Faith’s possible demise and had been investigating our options. Hunter broke the rules by leaving England and seeking you out. He was to be terminated, but after everything last year, nobody volunteered for the job.”

“You’re saying little Hunter is the only one with balls over there?” Spike snickered. “Oh how the mighty have fallen.”

Travers nearly groaned. “Nobody anticipated Miss Wright to be long in her role. Despite her great potential and two rogue slayers in close proximity, it was seen that Wolfram and Hart were not going to stand idly by as a threat of this magnitude loomed in their wake.”

“You _knew_ they were coming for her?” Nick growled. “You never once warned me that they were out to kill her!”

“You daft boy, of course they were. You weren’t warned because it was assumed that you all understood the threat. My god, look what they had already done. Murder, kidnapping, torture and dark magic. Their intentions have been perfectly clear. And they’ve distracted you all in one manner or another.”

“So you sent me this guy?” Rosalie said gesturing toward Ketch. “Did your research department end with Nick or what?”

“Arthur is not a Watcher. He’s a Men of Letters.”

Spike spoke up once more. “Yeah, the wankers have an even wankier set of cousins. We know all that.”

“After a series of unfortunate events, which we understand the Winchesters were victim, the Council has voted unanimously to retake control of the Men of Letters until a time which they can restructure and reshape their current program.”

“Where’s the point?” Buffy demanded. “So far your little monologue has been nothing but filler.”

“The point,” Travers said harshly, “was Mr. Ketch is necessary to give me access to the American Men of Letters facilities. I also believe his presence underscores how seriously we are taking the situation.”

“Not a good choice,” Dean responded.

“Mr. Ketch is here to show how the Council is determined to right the mistakes of the Men of Letters. We are prepared to further bridge the gap between us and our American allies going forward.”

“By killing him?” Dean asked.

“No!” Travers snapped. He took a steadying breath. “Our Council has determined that a different course of action should be taken with Miss Wright. We’ve lost three Watchers over the past couple of decades. Going forward, we realize that American slayers may require a different mentoring style.”

Spike started laughing hysterically. All eyes fell on him. “He’s…” His laughter made him unable to speak for a few seconds. “He’s saying they’re all too chickenshit to come here.” Cackling, he turned to his wife. “You killed the Council.”

“She most certainly did not!” Travers huffed.

“Well, seeing as all you could muster up was some Men of Letters reject, I’d say Spike’s on the money,” Dawn quipped.

“We decided…on our own volition, that an American Watcher would be more effective for an American Slayer.”

Buffy arched a brow. “You have an American Council now?”

“No, but with our new direct control of the Men of Letters, we do have Americans that we believe are capable for the job.” He paused and looked to Dean. “Well, one American.”

“Am I the only one not following?” Rosalie asked the room.

Ignoring her completely, Travers continued. “Mr. Winchester.” He made a point of turning his eyes away from Dean to Sam. “Samuel Winchester, Man of Letters, the Watchers Council does hereby decree you to watch over and protect the sacred line of the Chosen by overseeing Rosalie Wright.”


	36. Chapter 36

He knew she knew he was there, but she didn’t say anything. And neither did he. Probably for the same reason—once they started talking, everything they had learned downstairs would become real. And for them, real meant over. At least for now.

Sam wasn’t stupid, though god, this was one of those days he wished he was. Wished he was anything but the Governor of California, someone whose face was recognized by a good majority of Americans. Someone who had to think about more than just the future of his fragile relationship and welfare of his son when making the hard decisions. If he weren’t the governor…

Well, a lot of things, actually.

Sam watched Willow for a few more seconds before conceding that this _ignoring each other_ tactic was a waste of time. Schrodinger’s cat, in their case, wasn’t both alive and dead, and hoping he could delay the inevitable by stealing moments as she stuffed things into suitcases wasn’t going to do either of them any favors.

“Josh is gone,” he said by way of greeting.

Willow didn’t even slow down. She didn’t look at him, either, just slammed the lid of her suitcase closed. “I think that’s everything.”

“You let him go, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

Sam tightened his jaw, willing himself patience. “Do you think that was your call to make?”

At that, Willow raised her gaze to his and he tried—god help him, he tried—not to let go of his anger at what he saw. The rings under her eyes were pronounced, her porcelain skin splotchy and swollen from crying. There was no fight in her at all. She was just defeated.

“Probably not,” she replied dully. “But as you heard downstairs, that clearly has never stopped me.”

“Willow—”

“Josh knew, Sam. He knew everything. That was why he did what he did—why he wanted to keep us apart. And honestly, I can’t say I blame him.” She blew out a breath. “The last time we were here, I almost lost control of my power. He started looking into me when he got back to DC. Wolfram and Hart found him at the right time and the evidence they had against me was damning. He was trying to protect you and Donna and the whole world from me, so yeah, I let him go.”

Sam wasn’t sure what to do with this—the blows over the last two hours just kept coming. And from the high that had been the night before, their decision to try to be something resembling a family, he wasn’t sure he had the energy left to feel betrayed. “He didn’t say anything,” he said hoarsely. “He knew all this and never told me? Never told _you_?”

Willow arched an eyebrow. “‘Sam, the woman you knocked up was in a lesbian relationship more than ten years ago. She killed a man, went nuts, tried to end the world, and then when that didn’t work, did some funky black magic to make all of her friends forget about it. But don’t ask her, because she doesn’t know.’ Yeah. I see that conversation going over really well.”

“He could have at least tried.”

“Well rah fucking rah, we’re all the hindsight police today, aren’t we?” she snapped. “Josh did the best with what he had. And considering that just down the hall is a guy who nearly got his best friend’s daughters killed, and I nearly wiped out an entire continent, we can forgive Josh for not knowing how to handle the insanity that is _this_. He knows Wolfram and Hart are the bad guys. He’s not under any compulsion or curse or anything. He’s just your friend and he tried to do something to protect you and the woman he loves, best he knew how. He doesn’t understand magic, but he understands the law, so yeah. I get how Wolfram and Hart would’ve made sense to him, talking to him on terms he could understand. He made a mistake and he knows it. If you want to be pissed at anyone, be pissed at me.”

“Oh, you don’t think I am?”

That seemed to yank the wind from her sails. Willow stared at him a moment before sighing. “It was never going to work, you and me. Maybe it’s best we found out now.”

“Sure. We just have a kid together. Wouldn’t want to get in too deep or anything.” Sam tore a hand through his hair. “And Willow…I think Oz should come with me for now. Back to Sacramento. I don’t know what to tell the press, but I have people who will figure that out for me. He’s my son and I want him to be safe. I want—”

“You’re right.”

“—you to be a part of that. Of course I do. But with everything we just learned, it makes more sense to…” He widened his eyes. “Oh. You agreed with me.”

“You noticed.”

“You…you’re not going to fight me on this? Tell me the baby belongs with his mother and that my life is too complicated?”

Willow blinked, then barked a hard laugh. This was followed by another, and another, until the sound reached a maniacal peak and the shudders commanding her body turned into harsh, ugly sobs. She collapsed against the bed, burying her face in her hands and crying hard enough that the dresser began to shake.

Sam went to her, not as quickly as he would have just a few hours ago, and wrapped a hand around her shoulders to pull her into him. And for the next five minutes or so, they sat like that—together but not.

Like they’d been since the beginning.

“It wasn’t that funny,” he said when Willow’s cries had subsided, and was relieved when she released a laugh that sounded genuine.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” she said, sniffing. “With any of it. And I am certainly in no place to care for a child. I think Hermione was just hoping this wouldn’t be the bomb that it was.”

“She seems too smart for that.”

“She is. I doubt she believed it. She just wanted to.”

A knock sounded at the door. Sam jerked his head up in time to see the other redhead—Ron’s sister, he knew, though he couldn’t place her name—enter the room, looking somber.

“Ron and Hermione are back,” she said by way of greeting. To Willow, she elaborated, “That vampire’s mum was being a right Umbridge.”

“Melody?” Willow asked.

“Was that her name? Seems too pretty for such a twat.” The redhead scowled and shuddered. “Anyway, I’m here to collect you.”

“Collect…me?”

“Moving over to the new flats, remember?”

Willow rose to her feet. “You…you’re still doing that? All of you?”

“Well, yes. Hermione told you as much this morning.”

“Right, but after what she said about what happened… There’s no point in you staying here, is there? The Ministry has a good reason to want me out of the country.”

The redhead arched an eyebrow. “Don’t be thick, Willow. For starters, the Ministry is run by wankers. Yes, I’m including Kingsley in that. Politicking turned him into a git. Secondly, what sort of horrible people do you take us for? We’d drop this kind of awful news on you, then just pop back across the pond, leaving you to pick up the pieces? We’re your friends, you halfwit.”

“Clearly,” Sam murmured.

“Ginny has never the type to sugarcoat,” Willow said, and he was startled to see a smile on her face, no matter how small.

“And I’m not about to start now,” the redhead—Ginny—agreed. “Harry knows it otherwise he’d be up here himself, doing a right awful job of knocking sense into your head. And Hermione doesn’t think you want to see her.”

“Why? It’s not like she’s to blame for any of this.”

“Just the messenger’s way of keeping alive.” Ginny shifted her attention to Sam. “You’re taking the baby for now, right?”

Sam hesitated, then looked to Willow. He hadn’t mentioned to anyone his plans regarding becoming a single father and wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or concerned that everyone seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion.

“Yes,” Willow said. “Oz will be staying with Sam.”

Ginny nodded. “Well, Ron and Hermione are ready to escort you, Donna, and the baby to Sacramento. Let’s head over to the new flat, Will. We should talk with Percy and get some strategies together for our appointment with that Toadmore bloke.”

“We still think that’s the right move, then?” Willow asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “You’re not daft but you sure act it sometimes, you know?” And without waiting for a reply, she flounced back off down the hallway.

Sam and Willow sat in silence for a moment.

“In another life, she might have been my type,” Sam muttered.

“Mine too,” Willow said. “Only…Tara wasn’t assertive or bossy. She was…”

Her face began to crumble again, and something inside Sam twisted. He didn’t realize until that moment how much he’d been hoping that Tara had never existed at all. The times Willow had mentioned her, unsure whether or not she’d ever been real, had been heavy enough. Now that she knew Tara had lived and was in fact still living… Well, that was something he wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to fully accept. Not with the lengths she’d gone to in order to forget.

Maybe Josh had had the right of it all along. They wouldn’t work, and not because of magic or spells or a past too complicated for any couple to surmount, but because Willow would always be in love with someone else.

He didn’t know. The only thing he did know at the moment was he’d give anything to go back a few hours, to the happy place they’d reached together before morning and stay there until the world stopped spinning.

*~*~*

Buffy was sure she’d heard wrong.

“Did everyone hear that,” Dean said slowly, “or do I have crazy stuck in my ear?”

Spike snickered, shaking his head. “Council of Wankers officially outta new recruits, is that it?”

Travers didn’t so much as glance in the vampires’ direction. His gaze remained intent on Sam, who looked to have been stunned stupid. “We have considered this from every possible angle. Most modern watchers have very little field experience. We believe it would benefit the Slayer to have a watcher who not only can handle himself in a fight, but actively seeks out demonic or otherworldly activity. From what Mr. Ketch tells me, you are a devout researcher, which is the other part of the job. Truly, Mr. Winchester, all we are asking is that you take Miss Wright under your wing, do exactly what you have always done, and cash a paycheck while doing it.”

“Wait,” Dean said, holding up a hand. “You'll pay him for this? Are you shitting me?”

“Not at all,” Travers replied importantly. “All watchers receive a salary and benefits from the Watchers Council, as well as access to our vast network of resources in certain end-of-world scenarios. In return, you will train Ms. Wright in combat, which should be rather simple, and be responsible for broadening her knowledge about vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness. Regular progress reports are expected and the Council will be informed in the event anything unusual develops.”

“Define unusual,” Buffy said, planting her hands on her hips.

“In your case, it was befriending and dating a vampire who then lost his soul after you…err…consummated your relationship.”

“You act like Angel came with a warning label. ‘Do not bone. Product may become homicidal.’”

“To be fair, love, Angel himself was a pretty large warning label. ‘Enormous git. Broods excessively. Stalks bloody teenagers,’” Spike muttered, but grinned when she glared at him.

“Yes, there was that,” Travers said. “And then you got yourself sired and took up with a vampire who’s been responsible for the deaths of two slayers—”

“Bloody hell. Any sodding chance to bring that up, eh? Doesn’t matter that I’ve been fighting the good fight for a decade now?”

Travers narrowed his eyes. “Ten years isn’t much on the cosmic scale, William. And no, we don’t consider you an ally. Not when your conscience is tied to a soul that belongs to someone else. Someone who might not always be here to keep you…what was the word you used earlier? Leashed.”

Spike snarled, but Buffy grabbed him by the arm before he could do something stupid.

“In case you haven’t noticed,” she snapped at Travers, “I’m kinda impossible to kill these days. Thanks in no small part to Spike.”

“You’re quite right, of course. Were it not for Spike, you would have died as you were meant to. Instead, the Council must contend with abominations such as yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam said, holding up his hands. “First things first—if you want me to work with you, we need to establish some boundaries.”

“You mean you’re considering it?” Dean demanded.

“Of course I am. It’s either me or someone else, and I don’t think we want to add anyone else to the mix, do we?” Sam glanced at Rosalie, then Nick before turning back to Travers. “I haven’t done much reading on slayers—haven’t had the time since we discovered they’re real. But the reading I have done has made one thing clear—Buffy lived because she had friends. Connections. She wasn’t supposed to, but here she is. You can call her what you want but she’s still standing here, fighting the good fight, _your_ fight, and she’s doing it because she can’t _not_ do it. So let’s get one thing straight—people who save the world? They’re friends. And Buffy and Spike are welcome to stay here as long as they want, and be as involved with Rosalie’s training as they want. We’d be idiots to not use a resource as invaluable as someone who has lived the life.”

Dean scoffed and muttered something mutinous, but otherwise didn’t object.

Travers remained rigid for a moment before nodding.

Sam nodded back. “Good. Another thing. I’m not going to be a part of any ritual that involves weakening the Slayer just to pit her against a vampire. I believe Rosalie could handle herself just fine—I know she’s been slaying vamps since she was in diapers—but recklessly endangering her life for no reason will not happen here.”

“The Cruciamentum—”

“Yeah. That. It’s not happening. So forget it.”

Again, Travers was silent for a moment. Again he nodded. “Very well.”

“And I will not be policing Rosalie’s private life under any circumstance.”

Travers balked at this. “A decent way to get the girl killed.”

“No, a decent way to get the girl killed is giving her reason not to trust me. If she thinks I’m tattling on her to you people, I won’t know the things I need to know.” Sam glanced at Rosalie again, who offered him a small smile. “Rosalie gets to live her life. She is not yours to command—she’s a human being. She didn’t stop being one because the…whatever it is that’s out there decided she was slayer material.”

“Someone _has_ been doing his reading,” Buffy murmured, impressed in spite of herself.

There was nothing for a long beat, then Travers sighed, glanced down and nodded.

“These terms are acceptable.”

Sam smiled, relieved. Then hardened as though he wanted to be seen as authoritative and in control and issued a _you’re damn right they’re acceptable_ nod.

“We do have a request,” Travers went on. “The bracelet worn by Faith Lehane—we know it is in your possession.”

Buffy seized hold of Spike’s shoulder and squeezed. “You can’t have it,” she snapped, not sure where her anger was coming from until it exploded in her chest. The Council had failed Faith more than once and they damn sure didn’t deserve to have access to the power she’d sacrificed to save their own asses. “She didn’t give it up for you and you damn sure didn’t deserve her.”

“Seconded,” Hunter said, a similar fury burning behind his eyes. “You abandoned her when she needed you the most. Faith wasn’t yours in the end and neither is bracelet. You can sod off.”

An ugly sneer took Travers’s lips. “I see that Ms. Lehane certainly…left her mark. Rest assured, Ms. Summers, Mr. Hunter, that I am quite content leaving the bracelet here. However, as the Watchers Council, we would be remiss to not seize advantage of the unique opportunity to study the Slayer’s raw power independent of a host body. I was merely going to request that Mr. Winchester make the study of the bracelet his first task.”

“That’s all we are to you, isn’t it?” Buffy spat, shaking so hard now she thought she might burst. “A host body. A gun you get to aim wherever you like.”

“You, Ms. Summers, are nothing to the Watchers Council these days, aside from—”

Sam cleared his throat pointedly.

Travers hesitated, mouth agape, then seemed to recall the agreement he’d made just minutes earlier. The asshole had the audacity to look disappointed. “An ally,” he said through clenched teeth before turning to Sam. “You will make the study of the bracelet your priority.”

Sam glanced to Rosalie, then to Buffy, and nodded. “Yes.”

“Excellent. Since Mr. Ketch will be remaining here, we ask that you relay your findings to him on a monthly basis.”

“No,” Dean snapped. “No fucking way.”

“What is your objection now?” Travers said, sounding exasperated for the first time.

“Ketch being here. Ketch getting any intel from us. Ketch breathing again. Take your pick.”

“We are all on the same side here.”

“Yeah. Heard that one before.”

“And as I said, the Men of Letters is an extension of the Watchers Council, and after the recent unpleasantness, is restructuring the organization. Mr. Ketch is part of that.” Travers nodded to Ketch, who either had resting bitch face or the gall to pout. “We’re embarking on a new chapter—all of us. As such, we need eyes and ears on the ground. Eyes and ears that understand the Watchers Council.”

“So a watcher for the watcher?” Buffy volunteered. “How very Big Brother of you.”

“Mr. Ketch will be fulfilling his own duties to the Watchers Council, completely separate from Mr. Winchester and Ms. Wright,” Travers said. “You needn’t interact on a daily basis, or be a part of each other’s worlds at all, if that is what you prefer, excepting matters that pertain to the whole. We will conduct a conference call once a month, in addition to the reports you submit, to ensure all bases are being covered. Mr. Ketch will also be kept abreast of any conclusions or discoveries pertaining to the bracelet. The more we understand the Slayer’s power, the better equipped we are to protect her.”

“Yeah, protecting her,” Dawn said, crossing her arms. “Like you ever cared.”

“Ms. Summers, we cannot change the past, and if we continue the way we were, the best we can hope for is to repeat it. I doubt anyone in this room wants that.”

“Ketch will never be welcome here,” Dean said heatedly. “Ever. And sorry if I don’t trust that asshole to stay out of our business, no matter who’s pulling the strings.”

“You know we can sniff him out, mate,” Spike muttered to Dean. “If he’s lurkin’ about, keepin’ tabs on Bite Size. Reckon the Slayer won’t let little Rosie get too far outta her sight for a bit yet. And,” he added, turning now to Travers, “as this git just loves to point out, I don’t have me one of those shiny consciences that keeps the lot of you from offing nosy wankers. That ponce oversteps, I’ll have me a nice meal.”

Ketch gulped and, seeing this, Dean grinned.

“I guess exceptions can be made,” he said.

*~*~*

Zack knew he was brooding but he couldn’t help himself. After the past few days, after his own mother had looked him in the eye and declared him dead to her, he felt he’d earned a pass.

“You’re brooding,” his brother said as he reentered the lobby from the kitchen, holding two beers.

“Yes.”

“Must be a soul thing.” Wright pressed a bottle into his hand, then walked back until his legs hit the opposite sofa and he sank into it. “Spike doesn’t brood.”

Zack snickered, flicking up his gaze. “Yeah, he does. Just a bit more loudly. Besides…” He waved the bottle around the room. “I think I’ve earned a brood.”

Wright nodded, cracking open his beer. “Your mom… I didn’t see that coming.”

“Neither did I. Dumb, right? Like she’d forgive Darla showing up and showing her what a real vamp is like.”

Wright’s lips twitched and he raised his bottle into the air. “To Darla. Fucking up the Morris and Wright men for more than two decades. And refusing to stay dead.”

“Think that last one applies to half the people you know.”

“Maybe. Just fucking smarts that I dusted the bitch right here in this room yet she’s still somehow out there.” He threw back a swallow of beer. “The thing is, when I came here to find her ten years ago, I was…possessed. More than a little wild and all the way stupid. I didn’t care what happened to me and, to an extent, anyone else. I just wanted her dead.” He paused. “Then I met Cordy. Well, technically I met Spike first, but it was Cordy who…tethered me. And these last years…except for _last_ year _…_ have been good. Up until…”

“We showed up and fucked up your life.”

“I wasn’t gonna say it like that.” Wright took another swallow. “It’s just…what is the point, Zack? What’s the point of fighting and killing these motherfuckers if they _don’t stay dead_? Darla’s eaten dust twice now. Angel was mojo’d back by the Powers that Fucking Be to fulfill some grand purpose or whatever, but those Powers were on vacation when something sucked his soul out permanently. So what was the point of saving his undead ass? What’s the point of any of this?”

“The fight is the point, I’m afraid,” Giles said, stepping into the lobby and looking about as worn down as Zack had ever seen him. “And the fight is never over.”

Wright twisted to look at him, snickered, then settled back in his seat. “Cheery fucking thought.”

Zack rose to his feet. “My mother…?”

Giles sighed and began polishing his glasses. “En route to Portland. Hermione did a phenomenal job modifying her memories. She believes that you and Kelly were killed in a car accident twenty years ago and that the trauma of losing you caused a rift in her marriage that never healed. Portland is her new start, a way to put the bad memories of Los Angeles behind her.”

Zack opened his mouth, started to say something about how he wished it was that easy for him to forget what had happened over the past few years, then closed it when he realized he’d gotten that wish several times over. And again, that sense of utter violation—the thing he’d been trying to ignore ever since Hermione had dropped her truth-bomb—fell over him again. It was weird, because he’d gotten used to thinking of Willow as Ms. Fix-It. Something went wrong, something beyond his or Spike’s or Buffy’s ability to address, and it was time to call the witch.

As if reading his thoughts, Giles nodded toward the basement. “Is she…?”

“She’s gone,” Wright answered. “Harry and Ginny moved her out about an hour ago. Sam and Donna left too, took the kid with them. Back to Sacramento, I think. And I think that Josh guy is gone, too. Place hasn’t been this empty in…never.”

Giles sighed and, a moment later, sank next to Wright on the sofa. “I will be leaving soon as well,” he said. “Buffy needs to know about these developments and this isn’t the sort of conversation I can have with her over the phone.” He paused and met Zack’s eyes. “I believe I will be relocating to Kansas for the time being. It seems Buffy and Spike have decided to stay there.”

Zack’s throat tightened and he nodded, trying to ignore the hollow place in his chest. “And where she goes, you go.”

“I might not be a watcher anymore, but—”

“You’ll always be her watcher, Giles.” He swallowed. “The kids will miss you.”

“And I them, but this isn’t goodbye.”

“I know.” Yet it still somehow felt like it was. “I’m…sorry. About Mom. I know you two were… Well, I don’t want to think about that because, gross, but I know you…had feelings for her. Maybe even loved her. And she… I didn’t see that coming.”

“I should have,” Giles said softly. “And you have nothing to apologize for, Zack. You just lost your mother, for all intents and purposes.”

“Geez, rub it in,” Wright muttered.

“I only mean—”

“I mean, joke was on me, wasn’t it?” he said. “Nice lady comes in, tells me I could’ve been her son. Starts treating my kids like they’re her grandkids. I don’t even get a goodbye when she leaves. Guess she had more in common with my old man than I thought.”

Zack inhaled sharply, both angry with Wright for daring to feel sorry for himself over this and ashamed that it hadn’t occurred to him that he wasn’t the only one who had lost a mom. Last year, after discovering the lengths of Derek’s deception, Melody Morris had gone out of her way to assume the mother role for Zack Wright. Never replacing the woman who had actually raised him, but filling a void that had been neglected far too long. Wright hadn’t been exactly receptive to this, but he hadn’t hated it, either. And he was right—Melody had not once looked at Wright while making that little speech of hers. He hadn’t warranted that.

As though realizing he had no room to talk, Wright glanced at Zack and winced. “Sorry. Pity party of one over here.”

That was all it took to kill the anger. “She said she was your mom too,” Zack replied. “Guess we saw how much that was worth.”

“Yeah, well…” Wright rose to his feet, polishing off the last of his beer. “I don’t know how things are gonna be around here. The witches and wizards are staying and Wolfram and Hart’s likely gonna start in again soon. My daughter’s gone, Faith’s gone, and the only other people here are my wife, Gunn, a nurse I don’t know and a son of a bitch who doesn’t know why I want to kill him.” He paused. “You and Kel and the kids… I’d like you to stay. I know you’ll eventually need to go meet up with Spike and Buffy if they don’t move back—and as much as I’d like them here, I feel better knowing they’re with Rosie. But for now…I’m not used to a house this empty. And I figure it’s time you and me did the brother thing. Family’s family, yeah?”

Zack swallowed, an unfamiliar sensation spreading through his dead veins. He stared at his brother for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. Kel and I haven’t talked but…I think that’s good.”

Wright nodded. “Good. I’ll get you on payroll.”

“Payroll?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re a bit short-staffed. Got used to having two slayers around to handle the overflow.” Wright brought up his hands. “Unless you have a problem getting paid to kill things.”

Zack stared at him for a moment, a slow grin spreading across his face. “No,” he said hoarsely. “Not at all.”

Wright offered a clipped, I-don’t-do-emotions nod, then walked away without another word.

Things were quiet for a moment before Giles sighed and rose to his feet. “I suppose I better pack as well,” he said. “I will keep my apartment here in the city. You and Kelly should consider it yours for those nights when you, ahh, need a break from the children.”

“You just offered your apartment as our sex house?”

“You just had to say it like that, didn’t you?”

“I really did.” Zack grinned and stood as well to give the man he’d come to think of as a father—a real father—a hug. “Tell Spike to be as obnoxious as possible, okay?”

“He hardly needs the encouragement.”

“And that when we visit, we’ll tear the place up.”

“There is quite literally no chance of me relaying either message.” Giles was grinning when he pulled back. His gaze dropped and fixed on something. “You and Kelly keep those rings on.”

Zack looked down as well. The first thing he’d done after Willow had bolted earlier was put the ring back on. He wondered if perhaps there was a way to surgically implant it under his skin. There probably was. They’d have to look into that. “Don’t worry,” he muttered. “We will.”

*~*~*

Dean had thought, with everything that had happened over the past few days, that there wasn’t much anymore that could take him off guard.

He’d been wrong.

There was a demon standing in the bunker. A green, horned demon wearing a teal leisure suit and a broad, friendly smile.

“Hey there, studly,” the demon said. “You have a slayer in the house? Or two?”

“What the—”

“Lorne!”

Before Dean could blink, Rosalie barreled past him and threw herself into the demon’s arms. Like that was normal.

“You made it!” she squealed.

“Wouldn’t miss it, gum drop.”

Dean would. He’d miss all of it.

His life had never been normal, but he had a feeling it was going to be hella weird from this point on.

“Dean!” Rosalie said, swinging around, a large, infectious smile on her face. “This is Lorne. He’s going to help Nick set up a sanctuary bar.”

Yeah, he was sure that made sense in some universe. Just not this one.

“So,” Lorne said, clapping his hands together. “Ready to get started?”


End file.
